


Comfort in the Pain

by HeroofAtlantis



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Real World, Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, Anxiety | Virgil Sanders Has a Crush, Anxiety | Virgil Sanders Needs a Hug, Asexual Anxiety | Virgil Sanders, Asexual Character, Asexual Relationship, Chronic Fatigue, Chronic Illness, Chronic Pain, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Multi, Polyamorous Character, Polyamory, Queerplatonic Relationships, Roommates, Virgil has chronic pain, fibromyalgia, qpr, we're ignoring the coronavirus
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-08
Updated: 2020-12-10
Packaged: 2021-03-04 23:08:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 37,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25094359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HeroofAtlantis/pseuds/HeroofAtlantis
Summary: Virgil has chronic pain and he knows this whole roommate thing is going to be a disaster. The others are so accomplished and he will only get in the way. But despite his best efforts, he finds himself caring about these dorks and even willing to tell them his secret. He just hopes they will not kick him out after learning how broken he is.(Don't worry they love him and would never reject him)
Relationships: Anxiety | Virgil & Creativity | Roman & Logic | Logan & Morality | Patton, Anxiety | Virgil/Creativity | Roman/Logic | Logan/Morality | Patton, LAMP/CALM, polyam calm, polyam lamp
Comments: 145
Kudos: 383





	1. Move In

**Author's Note:**

> TW: Virgil has chronic pain and fatigue, moderate depression, so the story follows self-depreciating thoughts and mentions of sometimes being passively suicidal. There is also mild abelism, both internalized and external

An anxious heat pricks around Virgil’s hairline as he pulls up to the house. He sends a text and waits at the front door, a box in his arms.  _ It’s going to be okay. Breathe,  _ he reminds himself.

When Patton offered him a place to live this year, he had not thought much of it. The only reasoning he could manage was that Virgil must have been one of his last options. He is grateful for the security of an apartment instead of filing for school housing and gambling on roommates. Still, his brain is coming up with increasingly creative ways of how this can all go wrong. 

Thundering footsteps come from inside as Patton races down the stairs. He throws open the door with a big grin. “Welcome home!” He throws open his arms and Virgil hesitates before setting down the box and entering the embrace. He is stiff and turns his head out of habit to not hurt his jaw. Luckily Patton is smaller than him so he clears his shoulder. The embrace is gentle but secure, and Virgil thinks he could get used to this.

Patton grabs the box despite Virgil’s protests. He dumbly follows the smaller’s lead as he talks about the others being around here somewhere and how excited he is for classes to start. Inside, the apartment is light and homey, the right mix of white paint and nice countertops with just enough items scattered about to look lived in. Patton brings him to his bedroom and squeals. “I’m so excited! This is going to be amazing!”

_ Excited? For him? Why? _ “Thanks Pat.” He manages with only a little bit of doubt in his tone.

Logan comes around the corner before he feels pressured to say anything more. “Do you require assistance?” He asks.

“I can take care of it. You don’t have to trouble yourselves with my mess.”

“I must insist.” Logan says.

“Alright. My car is open just out front.”

He first met Logan while waiting in a professor’s office. Virgil was there to beg for leniency. That week it seemed every part of his body was teaming up against him and he had no idea if he wrote coherent sentences or even anything at all on their last physics quiz. He honestly had zero memory of that hour-long chunk of time which was probably for the best. 

Then Logan came in, looking all confident in a button up and tie --  _ what student wears a tie? _ When he saw the professor was not there yet, he took a seat next to Virgil and introduced himself. He then went on to talk about thinking he missed a question on the quiz and wanting to try to get extra credit to keep his grade up. Virgil couldn’t help but begin to resent him. This person who probably gets a 4.0 and will graduate with honors. He was jealous of Logan’s worries and would trade in a heartbeat. 

They turned out to have physics recitation together -- whenever Virgil felt well enough to attend -- and became each other’s go to study partners. Even though Virgil couldn’t think straight half the time and felt like a freeloader, he must have made just enough contributions to their work for Logan to not think him a complete idiot. Their minds have very different ways of thinking, so whenever one got stuck on a problem, the other seemed to know how to go about it. 

They settled into a nice routine, much like now with Logan strategizing what items to unpack first. Virgil’s plan was to just dump everything into his room and sort it out later, probably after using an ice pack.

Roman arrives back from the grocery store sometime between bringing in the rug and the first half of the bed frame. “Welcome to your new home!”

“Doesn’t look much like a home.” Virgil looks toward the bare walls and empty closet.

“Not yet! But soon it will be fit for royalty!” Roman curls his hand dramatically.

“Ooh! Are these posters?” Patton exclaims. He sets down a box full of rolled up band posters and Virgil has to bat his hand away to keep him from snooping through his things.

As for how he met Patton, he had practically manhandled himself into Virgil’s life. It was not uncommon for Virgil to sit away from the crowd in the dining hall or in the back of class. One day he had been eating alone at a table in the dining hall when this boy had asked to join him. With that lopsided smile and cute rocking on his heels, Virgil just could not say no. After that Patton had taken it as an invitation to join him whenever, starting up conversation over soggy french toast, bumping shoulders and scaring the shit out of him while walking to class, even getting Virgil to smile occasionally. Patton is majoring in psychology and the most friendly person he knows, which is a blessing when he is feeling lonely, and a curse when he is overstimulated. 

Patton also has no sense that other people might need alone time to recharge. For someone like Virgil, even the constant chatter while unpacking his car is taking its toll.

Patton is inside the house for the moment, and Virgil slumps slightly. He is rummaging through the back seat, looking for anything that might have been dropped. Roman is grabbing the final clear tub of clothing.

“Don’t you own any colors except black and purple?”

“Um, gray.”

“You truly are hopeless.” Roman says with a smile.

“Hey!” Virgil whips around to fight but the other man takes the stairs two at a time and quickly disappears.

Virgil had not actually met Roman until the end of last spring. It was Patton’s birthday party and he invited all of his friends out to a celebratory dinner. Other than finding him brash and loud at first, he found that he actually quite liked him. At least once they actually got into conversation and past the surface level topics -- some of which Virgil avoided because  _ who wants the discomfort of talking about disability during a first impression _ . Roman is an English major and is writing a fantasy novel in his free time. When he talks about his own work he grows more reserved, like he is revealing a secret. Virgil can relate to that shyness. Once he found that part of Roman, he thought this dramatic man might be a little deeper than he first seemed.

Virgil locks up his car and heads up after them.

“You all done?” Patton calls from the kitchen as he pours himself a glass of juice.

“Yeah. Thank you all for the help. You really didn’t have to-”

“Nonsense! You’re one of the family now! We were happy to help.”

Virgil avoids the urge to roll his eyes.  _ He doesn’t know what he’s talking about _ .

He manages to get the black fitted sheet on the mattress before he collapses. He looks up at the blinking of the smoke detector for a solid half hour, hands gripping his hair. His arms have fallen asleep by the time he is able to roll over.

Slowly over the next few hours he moves in. At least to the bare minimum to still look like he is done. He tapes up the posters and tacks up a few pieces of art. Textbooks, pens, and engineering pads get unceremoniously piled onto the desk at which he will most likely never sit. Most of the miscellaneous items get dumped into his night stand, and he stashes his medication sorter in the top of the drawer. Everything else just gets shoved into the bottom of the closet. The clothes can be hung another day when his arms don’t feel like 50 pound weights.  _ Maybe tomorrow _ , although he doubts he will feel much better then after overextending himself today. He has time. They have two days before actual classes start. It is Saturday and classes begin at the top of the week. 

When he is feeling a little more human, he goes to make himself some vegetable based pasta from the few nonperishables he brought into the kitchen. Wow he needs to get groceries soon. Maybe he can last like this until Monday. He leaves his bedroom door open when he retires to scroll idly through tumblr.

In his last apartment his roommates practically ignored his existence. He left his door open all the time then just because he thought it would be good to not go days at a time without seeing another human being.

When Patton pops into his doorway, he tries to quickly steel himself to act more well than he feels.  _ I can pull myself together for a short time _ .

Then Patton proceeds to not leave for over an hour.

Virgil is clinging desperately to the arms of his chair to stay upright. He is not sure anymore if his efforts to look and nod at the right times are working.  _ What is Patton even talking about? _ He hums in agreement when it sounds like Patton is waiting for something. His brain fog is thick, his brain swimming and tongue feeling heavy in his mouth.

“So what do you think I should do?”

Something about changing classes. “Oh- um. Just- just go with your… your um gut.”

“Yeah I agree, I should probably switch. Thanks kiddo! I’m gonna go brush my teeth now and head towards bed. Good night!”

“Good night.” He is able to force one more half-smile over his face. As soon as Patton closes the bathroom door, he slumps in his chair.  _ How the fuck does he have so much energy? Can he share? _

Virgil takes over the bathroom next, spreading out his toothbrush and makeup wipes. He braces himself on the sink as he scrubs the dark eyeshadow from his eyes, revealing the dark circles that perpetually hang there. He looks blankly at his own face, at the tightness from the pain that others mistake for anger, at the way his eyelids hang low from the fatigue. He sighs and sits on the floor as he brushes his teeth.

Virgil is an engineer. He does not know why anymore. If only to avoid the language requirement.  _ God spanish classes still haunt my nightmares _ . 

No matter what he studies, there is no way he can do any kind of traditional job, not unless he gets much better. If he cannot manage full time school, how could he possibly work? The things he used to imagine himself doing -- field work or hands-on building medical devices -- would just take too much out of him.

The others probably don’t know he is so far behind them. All four of them are technically seniors, but Virgil’s disabilities only let him take two classes at a time now. He still has a few years to go if he can manage them. He might just drop out. Or stop existing before then.  _ Not the time to be thinking about that _ , he says to himself as he crawls into bed.

He does not know how much more he can push himself before losing everything. Every time he crosses his limits, he gets a little worse. These illnesses keep creeping inward and taking more away from him every month. Everything gets harder. Things get too bad to be worth it. He is barely able to draw anymore, cannot learn for fun or go down wikipedia rabbit holes, can barely hold a conversation, and most forms of exercise are literal torture. 

There are these alarms blaring within his skull. Pain telling him to stop, get back, get safe. But nothing will quiet them. Then anxiety runs with it, making the most benign things like lying in bed feel like running from rabid dogs. He should just stay in his room. It’s better that way. There he can’t be hurt by anyone, and he cannot burden people with the baggage that’s close to crushing him.

He rolls over aggressively in bed and starts to focus on his breath. He keeps following a breathing exercise until he falls into fitful sleep.

The next day, he comes out of his room to be slapped in the face with happy faces. Virgil emerges just before noon with a bedhead and pajama pants, barely managing to put on his makeup and hoodie. They’re his battle armor. He feels more prepared to take on the world with them on. Patton is happily chatting away with Roman in the kitchen, both bushy tailed. Logan is as collected as always with his bright eyes reading a magazine. 

Virgil tries not to make a fuss as he grabs himself some cereal. Patton says he can use his milk which he appreciates. Dry cereal is hell on his jaw. 

Later on, Logan heads out to the library and Roman to the gym. Both offer that Virgil can join them if he wants. There is this pit of guilt churning in Virgil’s stomach at having to turn them both down. He cannot even imagine walking to those buildings right now, let alone trying to do anything inside. His brain refuses to work so he turns them down just to vegetate at home and the worst part is Patton  _ knows _ . 

He tries to avoid eye contact when he goes to the kitchen to get tea. Patton is watching Disney plus on the tv — not Avatar because Roman would kill him for watching it without him. Virgil feels so bad every time he emerges from his room because Patton can see he isn’t doing anything important. 

After the third time, Patton asks if Virgil would like to join him. It sounds more fun than staring at a wall so he sits on the couch next to the pile of blankets Patton is bundled up in. 

“I didn’t know you were the tea type.”

“Yeah.” Virgil shrugs. It was suggested by his therapist. To tell his body that he is safe. Something to ground his senses. 

Not ten minutes in and his legs are aching from the position and he feels how hard it is for his eyes to move because of the fatigue. Even the kids show is too much and that leaves a sour taste in his mouth as his anxiety starts bringing forward self-deprecating thoughts again. 

“I’ve gotta go back to what I was doing.”  _ Which is nothing _ , his brain unhelpfully supplies _. _ “But thank you. For inviting me.” 

Patton frowns. “Okay kiddo. But you know it’s your apartment too, you’re always welcome.”

“Sure.” He smiles weakly then disappears into his room. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AHHH this is my first attempt at a fanfic! Please tell me what you think and point out any typos. I'm trying to become a better writer


	2. Keeping Up Appearances

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 3020 words  
> Chapter trigger warnings: maybe self depreciating thoughts?
> 
> Spoons are a unit of energy used by chronically ill people. See https://www.scarymommy.com/spoon-theory-chronic-illness/ for a good explanation

Virgil comes out of his room fully dressed and already in makeup. The floor creaks loudly at which he cringes. He makes note of the floorboards’ trouble spots while trying to quiet his footsteps as much as possible. He makes and eats his breakfast as quickly as possible. Well, “makes” is generous for simply pouring a bowl of cereal. Despite having plenty of time, his brain screams at him what-ifs about going to the wrong building or getting lost. No one sees him as he leaves to go to class.

The first class of the day is in a large lecture room. Virgil gets there early and quickly scouts out the situation. He takes a seat toward the side in the back row so he will blend into the group. The chairs are rolling and have good lumbar support.

The professor is long winded as he goes through the syllabus and what foundation information the students will have to brush up on before she gets into the first unit. Halfway through the 90 minute lecture, Virgil gets up the nerve to stand and stretch at the back. He looks as casual as he can muster while he does his gentle stretches. His physical therapist wants him to stand every twenty minutes, but he would die of embarrassment before that happened. Even now, his breath is coming too quickly and he cannot get out of his own head to hear what the professor is saying.

She somehow manages to take up the entire class time without actually teaching them anything. Syllabus week is just like that sometimes.

Virgil has two hours before his next class and he does not want to walk all the way back to the apartment if he can help it. He ends up holing up in a small study room in the engineering building. He opens his backpack and unwraps the cord for his heat pack. He lies down and tries to think as little as possible while heating and letting the tiger balm do its thing. He hopes that his hoodie muffles the menthol smell so he doesn't inadvertently gas out his classmates.

He makes it through the next lecture, barely. He has a white-knuckle grip on his fidget toy by the end. He counts slowly with his footsteps on the pavement, if only to get himself through the next count to 30, then starts it all over again.

He comes back to the apartment for the day and he knows he’s overdone it. Immediately he tries to figure out how to minimize what he does the next few days because he’s going to pay for today. He is still paying for moving in, he realizes, although he probably should have expected this.

He grabs an ice pack and thinks. It’s early and the others haven’t come back yet, so he sits with a furrowed brow and figures out what he can postpone. He’d hate to not do chores the first week but maybe he can half ass them. These people probably will hate him anyways. 

There is a good chunk of time where it is just Virgil alone with the sound of the fan in the living room window. He half-watches the trees sway outside the windows. It is a harsh adjustment when the others barge through the front door.

“We’re home!” Roman calls.

He and Patton tromp up the stairs and to Roman’s room, talking loudly about dinner and something about Roman’s new professor. Logan enters soon after. He does not yell or slam open the door, which Virgil with his mounting headache appreciates. Logan simply nods and takes a seat in the chair on the other side of the coffee table from Virgil.

Roman is blissfully unaware of Virgil’s plight as he turns on some obnoxious pop music and starts singing in the kitchen. The last thing Virgil would want is to dampen his fun, even if it does make the throbbing behind his eye intensify.

Patton rounds the corner and flashes a dazzling smile toward Virgil. “How was your first day?” He asks with so much enthusiasm that Virgil's stomach rolls. 

“Fine. Always sucks to reacclimate.”

“I find syllabus week quite dull personally.” Logan says cooly.

Virgil simply shrugs.

The pain and nausea set fully in by morning. There is no way he is attending his recitation today. What even is there to recite anyway? Virgil groans and turns over in bed, as if changing positions would help with the bone-deep ache that grips his entire body.

He tries to escape into fiction. He sits cross-legged in his chair and pulls out from his closet his library book called Red, White, and Royal Blue. It’s really cute and really gay and is almost enough to make him forget about his body. But while reading these fictional love notes, his brain takes a turn.

It’s bad days like these that Virgil really craves a romantic or queerplatonic relationship. He wants someone to hold his hand and mutter comforts while he endures the pain. Someone who he doesn’t have to explain what a bad day looks like. But he can only relax around people who he knows well, and the people he cares deeply about are the people he doesn’t want to burden with his issues. It’s something he’s never been able to work around, always letting people go to live better lives without him. Besides, no one will ever want to date someone who is not only asexual but disabled and mentally ill. It’s easier to just not put himself out there to be rejected over and over again. 

So here he is, alone and in pain and sobbing because of a fucking book and pain that he has dealt with for years now.  _ Shouldn’t I be used to it by now?  _

He is able to stumble to the kitchen and bathroom, but spends most of his day reclined, willing the hours to pass faster. The room is only spinning mildly, but his headache is worse thanks to the crying, and he is so low on energy that all he can do is stare at a wall and listen to music.

He has mostly composed himself by the time the others return. Thankfully Patton does not ask about his day again today. He does not have the energy to lie.

It is a successful week overall. He recovers from his symptom flare and is back to his baseline pain and fatigue. Not to perfect health, but at a level that he knows how to live with. He attends all his lectures, and is at least a little mentally present for all of them which he considers a win.

It is Friday evening and the atmosphere of the house is more alive than it has been all week. Virgil closes his laptop with a click and stretches his arms above him on the sofa. Roman is complaining loudly in the kitchen about being tired after his several classes, ending with a four hour painting class. He is helping Patton to cook dinner, but by the sound of it he is probably just sitting and talking while Patton does the work.

Virgil cannot imagine even staying seated for four hours straight*. He is jealous to be honest. He misses drawing more than anything, but his wrists hurt and staying upright is hard and his brain only has so much time that it will cooperate in a day. And he has to use that time for his classes and keeping up appearances with his roommates. He’s gotten to the point where he runs out of spoons even on his good days.

He feels his mood souring by the second, so Virgil drags himself into the kitchen. He declines their offer of food, choosing to instead eat something that will make him feel better. He settles for spinach with sweet potato and quinoa and chicken. He hesitates to even call it a salad but it is something and should give him a boost of energy.

The others sit around him with their own plates, full of fried fish and tater tots. In Patton’s case, there are more tater tots than anything else.

“You’re so healthy! I could never do that.” Patton says as he squeezes a large glob of ketchup onto his plate.

“Heh. Yeah. I guess.” Virgil manages.  _ But I’m not healthy. I’m actually very ill.  _ He is not about to say why he really does this; hoping that if he just does enough ‘right things’ that his health might stop getting worse. He is not going to say why he really eats so many vegetables and prioritizes sleep and does daily stretches.

Anyway, the burning comments hurt less when they don’t understand. When they have no reason to know any better. The worst is when he gets told to try yoga after coming clean to someone, as if he just hasn’t tried hard enough to get better. Believe him, he has done so fucking much.

The conversation topic changes to what everyone is up to this weekend. They get sidetracked when Logan mentions his GRE prep, then they start going into what jobs or further schooling they are applying for for the next year. Virgil sits and eats quietly while he listens to them all. There is a publishing company that Roman interned with in the past at which he thinks he has a good shot of getting an editing job after graduation. Logan says he has already surpassed the score for graduate school on the GRE, he just has to get his score up to the PHD level in the next couple months. Patton is on the president’s list because of his high GPA and tests well so he thinks he will be able to get into a good graduate school.

Virgil marvels at them. These people talk about extraordinary accomplishments like they would talk about what they had for breakfast. Virgil can never compete with them. 

They are also incredibly comfortable with each other. They have lived together for over a year and now Virgil is invading their space and dampening the mood. If he can help it, he will not tell them about his mental and physical illnesses. They are such great people and do not deserve his burdens. Also, if he never tells them these important things about who he is, they will never understand him. If they have a false sense of him, he has no problem being a little weird in their presence because what does their uninformed opinion matter anyway? It is freeing to not care what someone thinks.

So he lets himself go a little with them. He lightens the mood by throwing nick-names and jabs right back at Roman. The other puffs up when he is full of himself or sometimes sputters when Virgil has a particularly good comeback.

Instead of being all proper, Virgil eats his sandwich over the garbage can. At first it’s just because he’s too tired to wash an extra dish, but he snorts at how Logan nervously asks if he wants a plate. Virgil enjoys how he hovers and frets when he says no. He makes sure to make extra eye contact with the uptight man as the crumbs fall.

Virgil walks around with messy hair after a bad night’s sleep when he does not have the energy to run a comb and water through his hair. He lets it stick in all directions from underneath his hood. He doesn’t know if he will have the energy to fix it today or even the next day either. And the world does not implode. The others don’t even make any comments about it, whether it’s because they don’t notice or because he glares at them if they even look at him wrong, he will never know.

Logan can be ridiculous sometimes. During movie night -- Frozen -- he pulls out a flashcard and says “that was not very  _ on fleek, _ ” emphasizing the term like he would a vocabulary word. At which Virgil bursts into laughter. Not a stifled laugh but his natural one, loud and halting and unflattering. Everyone turns to look at him and he tries not to feel self-conscious under their wide-eyed gaze. 

“Oh my god, what was that?” Virgil asks Logan. 

“What? Is that not how one uses that term?”

“No! And no one says that anymore.”

“I guess I need to update your flashcards my nerdy friend.” Roman says, reaching for the card. Logan hands it over and Roman crumples it up, which elicits a hurt sound from Logan. “Don’t worry. I’ll make you more.”

Virgil is smiling lopsidedly at their interaction. He catches Patton still looking at him, his expression looks almost awed but Virgil knows better. Virgil’s smile falters and he ducks his head. 

They start to get into a routine, getting used to each other’s movements. When they eat, sleep, study, when people want to be alone or want company. They have nights and times during the weekend where they congregate into the living room to simply be in each other’s company while doing various things.

It is one of those days. Virgil has one headphone over his ear while working on his computer. He stops for a moment.

There is this light feeling in his chest. It is not as hard to breathe as normal. He considers his body and surroundings with puzzlement for a moment before it dawns on him.

He feels  _ safe _ . 

It has been such a long time he has forgotten what that feels like. Sitting here while not putting up a front, not being drained trying to keep up with the conversation. His brain and body are cooperating for once and there is nothing to hide. He’s simply feeling light with the loving banter in the background and for once not wondering whether they’d prefer if he weren’t here.

After a while his hips start aching from the position so he wanders into the kitchen. He and Patton go about unpacking the dishwasher. Virgil sorts through the cutlery while Patton stows the plates, both silent in their work.

Roman enters, whining about his sore muscles from overdoing it at the gym. Patton tries to cheer him up by saying that’s how he knows it was a good workout. He puffs up his chest and says, “That is true! Without pain, there is no gain, after all!” 

Virgil grinds his teeth. He does not make a jab at that flawed sentiment, him being over here in pain and never gaining anything from it. He is glad he refrains because he gets to enjoy Roman being dramatic.

“And I want to get strong so I can lift young maidens.”

“But I thought you were gay?”

“Ah! You’ve got me there. You can be my maiden.” Roman sweeps Patton up bridal style, peppering him with affection and the both of them laughing. 

Suddenly Virgil feels like he is intruding. He stows the last of the cutlery and sneaks away back into his room.

* * *

Some students turn to give Virgil odd looks as he shakily turns the handle to the classroom. This is the second time he has had to step out of this particularly dull lecture. Well, maybe that is just his brain fog talking. For the life of him he cannot follow anything their professor is saying. He slips through the door and catches himself with one hand to the wall. Everything is too loud, too bright, too painful. He reaches into his pocket and takes out one of his various muscle rubs and spreads it on his upper back. A couple people give him odd looks but he just glares them down until they look away.

He makes it to the end of the class, just barely. He would be lying if he said he did not think about just up and leaving. The walk back to the apartment is a blur and he is barely able to keep the momentum of one foot in front of the other. 

Virgil is lying down on the couch when Logan returns. His head is on the low arm rest and his eyes open at the sound of light footsteps on the stairs. He bends his knees to make room for Logan to join him at his usual spot. He feels the need to explain. “I couldn’t… I- I’m not vertical”

“Yes you’re horizontal.” Logan supplies.

_ Horizontal _ . Virgil thinks.  _ That’s the word. _

Things are alright until the other two return. He enjoys their company, he really does, they are just so  _ loud _ . It’s overwhelming in this overload he is experiencing to hear Patton giggle and Roman complain and boast with a raised voice. 

Virgil retreats to his room without a word. He lies on his bed with his heating pad and sticks in his earbuds, listening to the opening riff of I’m Not Okay (I Promise) by MCR, drowning out all other sounds with the familiar song.

It is that night. Virgil is not sure how late it is, late enough that Patton has gone to bed but not late enough that the neighbors have stopped partying. Virgil is sitting on the floor with his hood up while his neck heat-wrap spins in the microwave. He stares forward, dead eyed, while the microwave hums.

Roman walks in and gasps, pulling one hand over his heart. “Holy hell you scared me.”

Virgil startles and looks up at the other with wide eyes. “Sorry,” he manages to say after a beat despite his pounding heart. He has no excuses to offer, so he just continues to watch Roman, wary of how the other might reprimand him.

“I was just startled.”

Virgil wraps his arms more tightly around his body and averts his eyes. Roman must give up on him because he goes to fill up his water bottle in the fridge without a word. The sudden light makes Virgil hide his face under his arms, his nose tucked against his bent knees. There is the sound of floorboards creaking as Roman retreats back to his room.

  
*  _ Heh, straight _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Of course my fatigue flares while writing a story about fatigue lol. Let me know what you think and tell me if you spy any typos. Honestly I’m good with criticism. Even though most of this story is true to my life, my anxiety is not as cynical as Virgil's is.


	3. The Mask is Cracking

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter tw: pain, brain fog, self depreciating thoughts  
> 4512 words

“And this fucking-”

“Language!” Patton scolds from around the corner..

“English.” Virgil snarks right back. Though he does concede as he continues. “and this freaking TA wants us to self-teach a programming language. But it has nothing to do with the class! I don’t know why we have homework that isn’t related to what we are learning in lecture.”

“Which language do you have to learn, Virgil?” Logan asks.

“C++.”

“I can assist if you would like.” 

“You know, I might just take you up on that, teach.”

Patton comes back in after grabbing his bag from his room. Instead of taking his usual spot on the couch next to Virgil, he flops right on top of Roman. Roman lets out a soft “oof” with a laugh, then shifts to fit Patton under his arm. 

Virgil must be staring because Roman glances over at him with an odd look.

“Virgil... you do know Patton and I are together, right?” Roman asks, slow like he is toeing around a sensitive subject.

“Oh.” Virgil says. He had not known that, although he is known for being oblivious to this kind of thing. He assumes they mean romantically and sexually. That’s what society usually means. He shifts in his seat awkwardly and fights the urge to leave them alone with each other. It helps that Logan is here too. “Well, congrats. I guess it’s kinda late for that though.” And he is truly happy for them, although he can’t help a strange pang of disappointment.

“Thanks kiddo! I’m polyamorous and usually date a few people off and on, but right now it’s only Roman.” He nuzzles closer into Roman’s chest and beams up at his partner.

 _They’re really cute_ , though Virgil would die before saying that out loud right now.

They all chat idly as they sit in the living room like that, with homework spread between them. Roman holds a paperback book in one hand and reads it over Patton’s head. Virgil is half-way through a worksheet for his medical devices class. Logan is typing away on his graphing calculator. 

“Oh and Virgil, don’t forget to take out the trash. It’s getting pretty full.” Patton says.

He stops his work, cringing to himself. “I can’t.” 

“What do you mean you can’t? You did it last week.” Roman asks, his brow furrowed.

Virgil breathes slowly out of his nose. His arms and shoulders and back are still screaming at him after putting on his makeup this morning. He has been trying to take it easy the past few days, honest, but his body just isn’t cooperating with him. “Sorry. Could someone else take care of it this time?”

“Don’t worry kiddo I can do it.” Patton says. Giving him a reassuring smile.

“One of us needs to purchase more garbage bags soon.” Logan adds.

“Oh right!” Patton says. “I was gonna go to the store this weekend.” Patton takes out a bright pink post-it and talks through what group items he is planning on buying. It only takes a little convincing for him to concede that one bag of mini marshmallows is plenty, although he pouts as he scribbles out whatever absurdly high number he had down previously. “Anything else?” 

“Paper towels.” Roman says.

Patton jots that down then looks up at them all expectantly.

“We need more, um..” Virgil snaps his fingers trying to remember. “Umm… soap. Hand soap. For the bathroom.” _God so stupid can’t even remember simple nouns. Must be more fatigued than I thought._

Patton smiles fondly and adds it to the list

Virgil tunes out for most of the conversation because there’s nothing more he can add. _They probably think I’m an idiot._ He hopes they aren’t too disappointed to see what he’s really like. Not just the snippets of his good days in classes and clubs. 

_My life is so messy. Everyone leaves me once they realize. My friends in high school left because I complained and cried about my pain all the time. It was all so new to me back then... God that was a long time ago. I was so naive._

He shakes himself out of his thoughts and goes back to his homework. It only takes a couple tries to understand the next question. _Maybe that is a sign I should be done for the day. But I can probably eek out a couple more answers before I crash._

* * *

Roman winces and puts a hand to his lower back. “I think I pulled a muscle.”

Virgil is the only one present to hear his complaints. Unlike Logan who would ask questions or Patton who would fret over him, Virgil is unmoving. He raises an eyebrow as if to say _so what?_

“Do you happen to have a heat pad?” Roman asks.

 _That, I can do._ “Yeah. microwaveable or plug in?”

“Hmm. Microwaveable.”

Virgil grabs it from his room and sticks it in the microwave, setting it for a minute and a half. He lets Roman pull it out when the buzzer goes off. Roman goes to heat it longer and Virgil stops him.

“Shift it around a little. I’ve been burned by that thing more than once.” 

Roman does exactly that, grabbing one end then the other and letting the rice inside fall like a rain stick. He holds it to the small of his back and calls across the apartment: “Yo! Glasses gays. Where you at?” He disappears down the hall.

About an hour later, a faint rapping causes Virgil to look up. He is sitting in his chair with one leg up and his phone resting on the knee. 

Logan is in the doorway. His knuckles are still resting against the open door.

“What’s up?” Virgil asks.

Logan enters and takes a seat at his desk. Their conversation is mundane, mostly about the logistics of whose car needs to be out farthest in the coming days. Logan looks around the room as they talk, his eyes going to the posters and bedspread. 

When Logan leaves, Virgil notices his medication sorter left out next to his pillow. _Fuck_ . Brain fog must have made him forget to put it away. He double checks that he actually took the medications this morning and sighs with relief to see the morning slot empty. _But Logan…_ He looks toward the door. He had to have seen it. With how out of it Virgil is, had they been swapped he never would have noticed. But Logan is sharp, perceptive, he had to have noticed. But lots of people take medications. Patton is very open about his ADHD medication. _It should be fine_ , he thinks, despite the hammering of his heartbeat in his chest

He decides to rest his brain by curling up and closing his eyes. Gathering his spoons to last the rest of the day. He can’t actually sleep because his mind is running a mile a minute. Little shocks of adrenaline spike through his core when he remembers something stupid he’s done like not being able to follow what Roman was saying last night or how he droped his food all over the floor a few days ago. Luckily the others weren’t here this time to see it. The perks of being a part time student in a house full of full timers. 

He turns on his pain playlist and barks a laugh at what comes on first: Champion by Fall out Boy. “If I can live through this, I can do anything.” He scrunches his eyes shut and tries to let the words ring true. It’s so much easier said than understood though. _If I can survive my worst days, I can manage these smaller issues, even though my anxiety tells me they’re disastrous._

After easing his body and thoughts some, he leaves his room. Which leaves him in the situation he is now.

He came to the refrigerator for a reason. He knows it. But right now he’s just standing there dumbly and all he knows is his whole body is hurting and Roman is absently clicking his nails and there is music playing and Patton is humming along off-key and the fridge light is so bright and- The thread of memory slots into place and washes him with relief. He came to grab leftovers. He sticks the tupperware into the microwave and tries not to lean too heavily against the counter. 

“How are you doing kiddo?”

 _Why does he always ask that?_ He hates when people simply say pleasantries on autopilot. They don’t really want to know how he’s doing. Patton always answers back with an enthusiastic ‘amazing’ or ‘right as rain’ and there’s no way someone can be good all the time. Everyone has their ups and downs. “I’m okay.” And by that he means he can deal, even though the room is spinning a little and his brain won’t work and his life is crumbling to pieces in front of him. _Not_ **_now_ ** _._ He shoves his anxious feelings down. 

“Happy to hear that!” Patton says, seemingly oblivious. His eyes flick to meet Romans for an instant, but whatever they are communicating is lost to Virgil.

The loud microwave alarm of Virgil’s food being ready startles him and causes his shoulders to jump up to his ears. He turns it off with the same practiced speed of his morning alarm. 

He hesitates before going to sit and eat with Roman and Logan. Patton is busying himself by wiping down the counters and doing a deep clean of the stovetop, still humming along to whatever song he is playing. 

They actually get into good conversation. It is able to distract Virgil from the ache in his hips that radiates almost to his knees. He and Roman are sniping at each other’s style choices.

“I’d hardly call an unbuttoned shirt proper clothes.” Virgil says, pointing toward the button up that is currently tucked into Roman’s pants. The shirt is open to show his chest and abdomen, revealing strong muscles under his solid mass. Virgil catches himself staring and jerks his eyes back upward.

“Better than the same ripped jeans and hoodie every day, Brad Pittiful.”

Virgil rolls his eyes.

“Oh cheer up, will you?” Roman reaches out to pat Virgil’s cheek. 

He only half registers it, and next thing he knows, he has whipped around and wrenched the hand backward. It is purely from instincts kicking in. There is a beat where everyone is quiet and staring, processing. Virgil’s mind slowly realizes what has happened. His breath quickens and he lets go of Roman’s hand. “Fuck. I didn’t mean… I’m sorry.”

 _My stupid body thinks I’m in danger all the time. All I do is hurt those around me._ He stands and brings his empty plate to the sink, ignoring how the silverware rattles because of his shaking hands.

“It’s alright. Triggers can be-” Roman is cut off. 

“No it’s not alright!” Virgil snaps. He whirls around to spit at the person he is most angry for. “I fucking hurt you and no part of that is okay! You shouldn’t… you shouldn’t have to deal with that.” _You shouldn’t have to put up with me. You shouldn’t have me here to make your life worse._ His chest is heaving and his eyes are prickling. He blindly fumbles to close the dishwasher. A hand moves to intercept him but he dodges it, his bedroom door slamming behind him.

_God they don’t get it. I’m so fucked up. Why is this my fucking life?_

He sulks in his room for a long while. He uses his headphones to drown it all out and watches his room fall into shadow, not bothering to get up and turn on the light. Eventually he does have to get up to pee. He opens the door quietly and slips into the bathroom. He plans on slipping back into his room, but is interrupted.

Patton steps out of the room across from his and practically lights up. That still confuses Virgil. 

“Oh, Virgil!” He says. Virgil thinks he sees him glance toward the hall, but soon enough those big brown eyes are trained back on him. “We were going to go to Shake Shack! Wanna come with? Please please please!” Patton begs.

As if to emphasize his point, Logan steps around the corner. He keeps to the side which Virgil appreciates as it makes him feel less cornered.

He hesitates. But he looks at Patton’s beaming smile and barely contained energy and Logan’s probing look under which he feels exposed. “Yeah. Sure.”

“Yay!” Patton jumps and tackles him in a tight hug. 

Virgil stares blankly at the wall across from him, trying to fight his brain to stay in his body. Hating himself for not even being able to take a hug. Patton’s hugs are so warm and soft. If he is going to be able to enjoy one, it would have to be Patton’s. He lifts his arms to return it. _Too slow. God Patton probably thinks I’m awful._ His face heats up with embarrassment. Logan is still looking at him and frowning. He averts his eyes and ducks beneath his bangs. _What do normal people do when they hug? Do they close their eyes? God why is this feeling like forever?_

When Patton pulls away, Virgil shyly returns his smile.

He goes into his room for his things and brain fog promptly rears its ugly head. It takes effort to hold onto his thoughts and more slip through his fingers than are registered. After putting on his shoes, he stands there dumbly trying to figure out what he is doing. He grabs a few things off his night stand. _Phone. Keys. Tiger balm. Anything else?_ He cannot think of anything and feels the pressure of the others waiting for him so he hurries out and turns off the light.

Parking is a nightmare in that part of town so they are planning to take the bus. It is not a long walk to the bus station, just down to the main road at the end of their street. Roman and Patton take the front, followed by Logan who is typing away on his phone, then Virgil falls in back. They make their way down the residential street of houses that all look the same with just slight variations. They turn the corner and stand to the side of the people gathering at the bus stop.

It is almost dark outside. The tops of the buildings are tinged rosy-orange from a sunset that they cannot see. The wisps of clouds look faintly pink against the deepening blue of the sky.

Virgil watches the orange glow of headlights turn toward them and another bus pulls up beside them. A few people filter in and there is the sound of coins being dropped into the front before the people make their way to their seats.

 _Fuck_.

His face heats and his hands start to sweat. _Of course. Why not. Everything else is going wrong today, this is just the icing on the cake._

He leans over to Patton and whispers. “I forgot my wallet. Do I have time to run back?”

“No, the bus will be here soon. But I can spot you on the fare! And food too.”

“Are you sure?”

He nods emphatically.

“Thank you. You’re a lifesaver. I’ll pay you back.” 

It is not long before their bus pulls up to the curb. Patton goes first and taps his card on the reader for himself and Virgil. The bus is mostly empty so they have their pick of seats. Patton settles on the row of sideways chairs. Virgil cringes at seeing it is the accessible seating, but does not say a word as he sits opposite him. There is the ringing of the card reader as the last few people climb aboard.

“Mind if I sit?”

Virgil snaps his head upward to see Roman looking at him hesitantly.

“No, go ahead.”

Roman smoothes up the corners of his long jacket as he takes a seat next to Virgil. The plastic seats are narrow so their shoulders brush. Roman holds his arms and legs in close, looking small although he is about Virgil’s full height while slouched. But Virgil is perpetually pulling in toward himself, which leaves him looking shorter than he actually is. They start talking idly about light topics which eases the tension still holding fast inside Virgil’s body. Talking to Roman is still as easy as ever, them taking little jabs at each other and testing the waters.

Still something seems… off. But for a while Virgil cannot put his finger on it. Roman is so stiff. He realizes that Roman is not suddenly getting loud or talking dramatically with his hands. Roman is restraining himself, and Virgil cannot help the pit of guilt that wells up in his gut.

“I’m sorry.” He blurts out, not even letting Roman finish his thought. The other blinks. “I’m sorry again- for earlier.”

Roman smiles at him with a tilt of his head. “No need, stormcloud.” 

Virgil’s stomach flips at the nick name. 

“It is I who should apologize. I never had a conversation about you about boundaries. We could do that now, if you’d like?”

“Sure.” Virgil says with more than a little trepidation. 

Roman raises his eyebrow.

“Yeah we can talk. What exactly… what do you want to know?”

“Well, how can I prevent earlier today from happening again? Was I too abrupt? Should I not touch you?”

“No.” Virgil breathes. He idly watches Logan getting worked up in conversation with Patton and Patton giggling. “I guess… I wasn’t at my best earlier. And I just have some shit with my jaw.”

“Alright. Is there anything else I should avoid doing?”

 _I can’t exactly ask him to stop being himself whenever I have a migraine or am in sensory overload._ “No.”

Roman claps his hands together. “Alright then! Good to know. As for me there’s nothing. Except I’m allergic to shellfish but that’s not a trigger or anything.” His voice falls back into its natural rhythm. It varies in pitch and volume and it causes Virgil to release more of the tension that was wrapping around his ribcage.

They get off at their stop. It is farther than Virgil was expecting. He is hungry and fatigued, although food should help with both of those things. He lets his steps fall behind the others so he only has to use a fraction of his brainpower to follow idly behind. His path sways and his feet don’t follow parallel steps. He scowls down at his shoes and wills his legs to work better.

He goes on autopilot for the trudging walk, and they arrive before he knows it. Patton takes his elbow and they go to an open register.

“What do you want?” Patton asks.

Virgil leans over the menu and makes his selections.

After ordering, he looks around and finds that Logan and Roman have taken seats at the high table at the center of the restaurant. He slips onto the stool beside Logan and knows that he is going to regret the lack of back support. But for now, he just tries to be engaged in conversation. 

He notices that when he looks at Patton’s face when the other sits, Roman disappears in his periphery. He suspects it is more than the small blind spots everyone has. If Virgil mentioned it out loud, Logan would go on about the structure of the eye and the optical nerve. But Virgil doesn’t let the others know. He frowns and looks subtly at the table. His eyes flick around and sure enough, there are large unseeing areas in his vision — an aura — which signal that a migraine is coming on. They float across his vision slowly like clouds across the sky. 

He rifles in his pockets and finds a square package jammed deep into the corner. He peels off the top and slips the tablet underneath his tongue to dissolve. 

He won’t be able to talk for a minute or two so he pulls out his phone to mask this. _It’s not like anyone would notice my physical absence. What I say is probably stupid or gibberish anyway, so if I don’t talk it won’t detract from the conversation._

Soon enough, their food is ready and Patton is sliding Virgil’s in front of him. Virgil nods appreciatively to him. He drinks his lemonade, grateful to wash out the strange taste left by the medication.

His chicken burger is good, but definitely not worth the hassle in his opinion. The others seem to be enjoying themselves though. Patton is smiling and giggling and Logan looks more content than he’s seen for a while and just being a fly on the wall to their happiness almost makes this strange outing worth it.

The longer they sit, the more Virgil feels it take its toll. There is a mounting ache in his back from being perched on the stool. It feels like his hip joints are being invaded by ice picks. He feels himself edging towards being overwhelmed.

He slides off his stool and goes into the bathroom without a word.

He leans against the wall of the stall for a moment and lets his face contort with pain. Lets himself feel how unfair this all is and how much it fucking sucks. He pulls out a container from his pocket and liberally spreads extra strength tiger balm over his back and hips. There is the sharp scent of mint-eucalyptus and camphor, which wakes his mind up. The cold sensation sets in and muffles the pain, to which he sighs. He schools his face and goes to wash his hands. _Here’s hoping it doesn't reek too much_. He walks back to the table.

His knuckles are white and he tries not to hold his breath waiting to see if the others react. _I am broken, but I don’t want them to see how fucked up I am._ To his relief, the only reaction to his return is Logan giving him a small nod of recognition before going back to sipping his shake.

Patton is happily going on about how good his frozen custard is. “Come on, just try it!”

“Nope. Why did you get strawberry? Chocolate is obviously the better choice.” Roman says.

“Please, Ro? Please please please?” Patton pulls out his puppy dog eyes, leaving Roman weak.

“Okay hun. I’ll try it.”

“Yay!” Patton spoon feeds him a bite. “Good right?”

Roman nods. He goes back to his own custard.

“Lo, Virge, wanna try?”

“I do not. I prefer my own shake.” Logan says.

Virgil grabs his leg tightly to keep himself upright. He shrugs nonchalantly, not even sure what he wants right now besides getting this all over with, and hating himself for not being able to stay in the moment.

“Here. I’ll get you a good bite, love.” Patton fills up his spoon and reaches across the table to feed Virgil.

The burst of flavor and cold are grounding. He briefly closes his eyes. He opens them again to see Patton’s expectant and slightly trepidatious gaze. He hums with appreciation and watches the other smile.

Things are really bad. He doesn’t even attempt to seem fine when they leave. Or when the others try to talk to him. He says he’s tired, which is a weak excuse but luckily the ever present bags under his eyes support his lie. He’s always tired, but not in a way a healthy person can understand. 

Despite the cold of the outside, Virgil’s body cannot seem to stop radiating heat. He has to tie his hoodie around his hips and gets strange looks from groups as they pass by, their eyes obviously lingering on his bare arms. Even with only his purple tee shirt he feels off, sweaty and hot but with the prickle of incoming winter air seeping into his improper attire. His toes and arms are numb but he supposes that should help with the pain that is gripping his entire body.

The walk back to the bus station feels twice as long this time. His eyes dart around to occupy himself with his surroundings. He could not begin to guess where they are or how to get to their destination, but Patton keeps a steady stride and he trusts him. Every alleyway and run down shop looks the same as they pass, taking abrupt turns and going from cobblestone to pavement. 

He feels every bump on the bus. The jolt travels from his hips, up his spine, then rattles his skull. He fights the urge to gasp every time it happens, instead tensing up his whole body. He leans forward and holds his face in his hands while taking deep breaths. Everything is too much. Patton rubs gentle circles on his back and it feels rough and grating but also grounding. He mumbles some excuse about it being a hard week.

All through the walk back to the apartment, Virgil is just counting down ten seconds at a time. His reasoning is he can get through the next ten seconds. Then the next. He manages to only stumble a couple times, quickly and quietly catching himself. He hugs his arms tight around his belly, gripping his sides securely.

They get back and Virgil slips into his room. He lies down on his bed to much relief. The skin on his legs is buzzing and prickling from too much walking. He tries to breathe deeply but gets an intense stabbing between two ribs that leaves him gasping. His eyes fall closed and he is intensely relieved that there is no one there to care what he looks like.

Brushing his teeth takes up the last drop of energy he has. He walks back clutching the walls so he does not keel over, and hopes to god that his knees will hold. Putting on his sleep shirt is jolty. His hands shake with the herculean effort of lifting the light fabric. It takes all the concentration he can muster. When he tries to wash down his night-time meds, water spills down his chin and his throat seems to spasm. He tries to cough but it is weak, barely keeping himself from drowning. His forehead rests between his forearms and his hands clutch desperately at his hair. _I can’t do this. God this is awful_. His hips are screaming at him and his limbs won’t move right and he just stays there for a few minutes until he gathers the energy to crawl between the covers. It takes half the night to fall asleep despite the exhaustion, and he wakes up past noon the next day. His joints are still bad, although no longer in total agony. 

He prepares himself to act okay, even though that is far from the truth. He doesn’t come out of his room until the early afternoon, then disappears with his cereal to heat his back while he eats.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope I didn’t go too heavy on the angst. Having chronic pain comes with a lot of difficult moments.  
> Also posting this on my writeblr, writeintrees.tumblr.com if anyone's interested in my other work


	4. Feels

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter content warning: mild thoughts of body horror, mention of being occasionally suicidal, self depreciation, sensory overload
> 
> 3672 words

_ Fuck mornings. They should be banned under the Geneva convention. _

It is the fourth day of this migraine and Virgil is just so… done. He has not seen his roommates in days,  _ which is fine, everything is fine _ .  _ They have been busy with class anyways _ . His window shades are closed and he stares at the dark ceiling. He hates these types of days where he has to burn time doing nothing to stay functional. 

He woke up at 5am feeling nauseous. Which leaves him hours to do nothing but fuss in bed. The room is still spinning a little but if he doesn’t move then it’s not too noticeable. Every time he thinks about going out to the kitchen, his stomach flops. He doesn’t want to be seen right now. What if they ask questions he just does not want to answer? What if he cannot hold a conversation and they think he is stupid or cruel from clipped responses? 

Every way he lies on the mattress leaves his skin aching. His cheek bone feels like it is splintering against the pillow. The muscles up his neck are seizing and there is an awful pain behind his eyes. He laughs bitterly to himself as he thinks about scooping them out with a spoon. Sticking his fingers into the empty sockets to massage those hidden muscles.

Virgil rolls out of bed, reserving himself to being sleep deprived today. He varies greatly in when he wakes. He’s the second one up today, which isn’t bad. The worst is when he gets up before Logan.

Despite going to bed the earliest, Patton is very much not a morning person. Logan is the only one who holds that title. He’s the one who comes out early and brews the coffee. He drinks it black, to which Roman calls him a “heathen.” 

A little later, Roman rolls out of bed and walks into the kitchen with bleary eyes. Logan pushes a mug of coffee into his hands, with creamer and sweetener of course. 

Patton shuffles in, wearing his cat hoodie with the sleeves over his hands. He latches onto the first standing human he encounters, which is usually Logan. Virgil lets himself smile secretly at the sight of Patton in full koala mode. Logan tries to keep going about his routine, oh that poor man tries, but eventually gives in to the cuddles with a huff. They shuffle over to the center of the room. At this point Roman is half-way charged and slumped over the kitchen island. With a nudge, Patton is transferred onto Roman. 

Patton wraps his arms around Roman’s collar bone and nuzzles into his hair. “Mornin’ love.” He makes a sad sound when one of his hands is detached, but giggles when lips press to his knuckles.

“Good morning my sunlight.” Roman says.

Virgil gets the treat of being a fly on the wall to this exchange. He feels a mix of happiness for them and something else. He does not know why his chest aches as he watches them. He brushes it off. 

Virgil sometimes dreams about having that dynamic. Of dating, lying in the arms of someone who deeply understands him. Then he’s knocked back to reality. He cannot burden someone like that. That doesn’t keep his stupid mind from lingering in those faceless fantasies.

Life filters into the room as the sun grows higher in the sky. Patton happily goes to make pancakes while Logan hovers and catches them before they burn. 

“He’s precious but highly distractible.” Logan whispers behind his hand.

Virgil snickers.

This is enough to draw the attention of Roman, who blinks slowly as sleep still clings to him. His face is open with surprise as he realizes that Virgil is in the room. He hardens in an instant and sends a spike of fear through Virgil. “Did you sleep with your makeup again? For shame! That’s not good for your skin.”

Virgil stiffens. “I know.” He had forgotten about that. He just had too little energy to take it off the night before.  _ It was all I could manage to get himself into bed without collapsing. _

“Roman is right.” Logan says. “The blockages makes pores prone to acne and the environmental stress can cause collagen degrad-” 

“I know!” He says, sharp and a little too loud. He takes in the shocked expressions on their faces and cringes. He goes back to his now-cold oatmeal even though he is not hungry, his free arm in a vice grip around his midsection.

He knows he’s being short tempered. He knows he’s in extra pain and extra done. He just doesn’t fucking care. It’s the best he can manage right now.  _ It's just not enough _ .

They back off and go back to just interacting with each other. It hurts to be shut out, but he also knows he pushed them away.  _ Again _ . 

Yet there is no backlash when he tentatively follows them into the living room. He feels awkward and invisible and puts as much space as possible between himself and the person in the middle of the sofa, who happens to be Patton. The three of them are laughing and recounting stories. Patton rests his head on Logan’s shoulder while they talk, and Virgil has the strange urge to join in the cuddle session. He stays hunched in the corner of the couch. 

For many of the stories the three were together, so they say things that would only make sense if Virgil had been there. He is once again reminded of how far he is from how close they all are. He tries to shove down his own thoughts and simply listen to funny hijinks and watch the way Roman’s eyes light up at describing the amazing places he has been to. They all look so  _ alive  _ and he loves seeing them like this. He feels himself loosening up a little and covers his smile with his hand. 

Patton pulls Netflix up on the TV and puts on Avatar the Last Airbender. Virgil would never admit it, but he has a soft spot for this show. He watches with fascination as the gaang flies over forests and lakes.

He finds negative thoughts seeping back into his mind. He wishes he could travel. God, he wants to see so many places in person that he can never go to even if he has the money. His body will not allow him to fly or drive for long without making his health worse. Besides, he has to be near an ice pack and a head pad at all times. So much of the world is off limits and the loss of these possible futures sits uneasy in his soul. There is grief in his chest like a stone tugging against his diaphragm.

Even just hearing their stories. Roman hiking and Patton jumping into a lake and Logan being dragged to nightclubs. Virgil never got to be young and reckless. His heart aches at the loss of his youth. He is supposed to be doing stupid things and collecting good stories to tell when he is old, but he already feels like his grandpa with his aching joints and uneventful days.

Tears well up in his eyes and his feet and back are screaming at him. Breaths come in shallow and shaky. How long has he been breathing like that? How long has he been sitting here, actively trying to ignore the pain? No wonder his brain is such a mess. He is ashamed of not being able to even handle sitting in good company for a conversation and a tv episode. He is ashamed which leads him to slip around the corner before closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. He enters the kitchen to move his body and as soon as he gets out of sight, he slumps with his forearms against the countertop.  _ It’s too much. But I can do this. I have to do this. _

He walks over to the sink and gets himself a cup of water. He lets himself focus on the cool of the liquid. Tries to focus away from the pain in his body. It does not get much better, if anything the pain just amplifies with nothing to distract him from it. So he instead goes to lie down with his head pad.  _ It’s not like the others will notice _ .

He emerges for lunch and finds the three curled up on the couch together while watching tv. Roman is leaning against Logan and Patton is draped across their laps, letting Roman run his fingers through his hair. It makes Virgil smile, seeing them all comfortable like this. He aches at the sight, but shoves down those feelings. 

The Netflix party turns into a study party as the hours pass, them conceding to making progress against looming deadlines. After a span of pain coping, Virgil feels up to joining them again. 

His good streak doesn’t last long though.

He tries to read over the question again, and once again his brain just cannot process it. Everyone else has their noses in their work. Yet Virgil just... can’t.  _ I’m a bad student. I am going to have to turn this in incomplete again. I hate this _ . 

He decides to switch his music to meditation music and starts scrolling through tumblr. The thought of the others watching him slack off makes him sweat a little. Luckily they all seem to be adequately distracted. Roman is going between an open paperback book and typing up an essay. Patton is sitting cross legged on the floor, scribbling away in his doodle-covered notebook. He is wearing cat-ear headphones and a little bit of his tongue is sticking out of the corner of his mouth which makes him impossibly adorable. Logan is working on code in split-screen on his computer with a determined furrow in his brow.

“Ugh.” Roman says after a while, breaking the companionable silence. He rolls his shoulder. “I have to take a break. Typing is hurting.” He reaches up to work at the muscles. 

“Allow me.” Logan closes his textbook and motions forward. 

Roman shifts on the couch so his back is in easy reach. His head lolls forward as Logan’s nimble fingers work at his neck and back. 

“I took a graduate medical physiology course.” He supplies when he sees Virgil’s curiosity. “Is this the knot here?”

“Oof. Yes.”

He continues massaging until Roman is calm and pliable. Virgil tries not to stare. 

“Would you like a turn?” Logan asks.

“Um. Yeah, sure.” He awkwardly takes the spot when Roman moves. His breathing is shallow. He half unzips his hoodie and lets it fall off his shoulders. 

Roman whistles. “You shouldn’t keep that collar bone covered, Marilyn Morose.”

Virgil glares at Roman so hard that he manages to look ashamed of himself.  _ Good _ . Virgil flinches when hands touch his back. He schools himself quickly back into indifference. Solid touches explore the muscles across his neck and shoulders. His stomach flutters not unpleasantly.

“You’re tight.” Logan observes. 

His voice is soft and close. Virgil drinks it in and relaxes slightly. He fights the urge to apologize, not saying anything at all.

“I have honestly never felt someone so tight.”

He feels his headache intensify as Logan pushes on certain muscles. Each is drawn like a bowstring, his body forming a protective shell around his hurting body. The presses linger, not in the way a kiss lingers but more like a bruised knee or the feeling after a harsh poke. 

After a bit Virgil feels like he’s disappointing him. He doesn’t melt and relax completely. His pains can’t be fixed by a one time massage. He pulls away and zips his hoodie up quickly, finding himself mourning the touch. “Thank you.” He says quickly. 

Logan opens his mouth to protest, but Virgil goes into the kitchen before he has a chance. He slips on his headphones and starts making himself dinner. He has to admit that his pain is a little better though.

That fluttering does not go away between cooking and eating. He tries to distract himself with indulgent fanfiction like he usually does to help with his anxiety at night. Like always he enjoys the stories, but his mind keeps flitting back to his roommates.

He has all these messy feelings. They zap through his heart like a tidal wave, leaving tingling ripples in his fingers. He groans and flips over in bed.  _ Not now. Come on things are already so complicated. _

He finds that instead of a faceless figure when he reads fan fiction, he will see one of  _ them _ . Whatever is happening between the characters, he projects onto one and while usually the other stays ambiguous, now one of them takes the place as the other. Him curled up in their arms. Them confessing their love. His face heats with embarrassment.  _ It must just be because they’re who I’m around all the time. Yeah, that makes sense.  _

* * *

It is only his first class and the day is looking like a bust.

Anxiety courses through him while sitting in lecture. He does not know what is causing it, but he notices himself being anxious which makes him not able to pay attention, and not being able to pay attention makes him more anxious…  _ yeah, that’s not helping _ . He steps out of class and into a bathroom stall if only for the privacy it provides. 

Music helps. It distracts him and fills his senses, blocking out the outside world. He decides to take care of some of his muscle pain while he’s at it. He takes off his hoodie and slips the tiger balm out of the pocket. He unscrews the top and sets it down so he can hike up his shirt.

The tiger balm slides off the toilet paper holder and the glass container breaks on the floor. He stands there for a moment staring at it in dismay.  _ Great. Of course _ . He wonders for a moment if there is any glass free balm he could use. His back is still aching horrifically. He decides with great hesitation to throw the whole thing in the trash. He stretches as best he can, then heads back to class.

The day goes by in a blur and his pain only gets worse, no matter how much he lies down or stretches. He is nauseous and quick to anxiety and just doing whatever he can to distract himself. Hence why he is stress eating buttered toast in the kitchen after dinner.

Roman is complaining about getting an B+ on his creative writing short story. “The thematic elements deserve at least an A-. This is ridiculous!” 

“I’m sure it was a very good story.” Patton says, rubbing Roman’s shoulder. He just pouts in response.

“I understand. I received an unsatisfactory grade on my recent Quantum Physics exam.” Logan says.

“Yeah, that shit really sucks. Especially when you work hard on something.” Virgil chimes in. 

There is such a contrast between his definition of success and the others.  _ I just want to pass my classes at this point. Fuck, it was a huge ass accomplishment to even go to my lectures today.  _ He had not noticed how his thinking had slowly acclimated to his situation over the years. Not until he is met with people who remind him of who he used to be. It is like he is a crab slowly boiling alive in a pot and they are splashing him with cool water. He wonders if he can ever join them in their world. Safe and happy.

He sits at the kitchen island with his plate of toast. His own voice scrapes the inside of his skull every time he talks. Everything is too bright and loud. He kicks himself for leaving his headphones in his room.  _ It’s fine. I’ll just eat quickly and leave _ . Everything is a little too much right now and his body is screaming that he is in bodily harm and no amount of glaring is helping it calm down. Even the texture of the toast is almost too much. He tugs his hoodie tighter around him and pulls up his hood.

Roman starts talking animatedly and his arm gets too close for Virgil’s liking which sends a silent shot of panic through him. Patton giggles and stands on the other side of the island. Him picking at the baby blue nail polish keeps drawing Virgil’s eye. Logan has a cabinet open which is blocking the path around one side of the island.

Virgil feels cornered.  _ I have to get out of here. Abort! Get away. _ His breathing is fast and shallow. He does not quite see in front of him. They are saying something but he cannot hear. “Sorry I’ve got to go to the bathroom.” He manages in a normal tone of voice, before jogging to grab his headphones then into the bathroom, locking the door behind him. He sits on the floor with his back against the door. He holds his headphones tightly over his ears and blasts his old emo playlist until the agitation drains from him. Who knows how long it takes, at least a handful of songs. Long enough that he starts getting worked up again about what if they are talking about him or waiting for him or think he is being unsafe, even though they have no way of knowing he is occasionally suicidal.  _ No it should be fine. Just going to the bathroom. Nothing weird about that _ . He flushes the toilet and goes out as casually as he can manage. He must have been gone long enough because everyone had dispersed. Roman is the only one still out there, typing on his computer in the big plush chair in the living room.

Virgil slides off one ear of his headphones and settles at the edge of the couch. About as far from Roman as possible while still being in the same room. He scrolls through Tumblr on his phone and lets his brain equilibrate a little.

“You okay Hot Topic?” Roman’s eyes look over him, searching.

It doesn’t sit well with Virgil who is still on edge.  _ If only I could disappear _ . “Yeah, why wouldn’t I be, Princey?” He says with as much nonchalance as he can muster, a little clipped as if daring Roman to disagree. Projecting as much fine-ness as possible even though his face is tight and panicked. 

“I don’t know.” Roman’s thoughtful gaze sweeps over Virgil once more before going back to his computer. “I wish I did though.” He says, matter of factly.

They sit in the quiet for a while. Virgil hears Logan scrounging around upstairs. The downstairs neighbors’ footsteps ring loud as they go about their night.

Patton rounds the corner with drooping eyelids. He yawns. “Good night loves.”

“Sweet dreams sweetheart.” says Roman.

“Night Patton.” Virgil says quietly.

Virgil retires to his room to read and to think. His mind keeps wandering toward the others. 

He is thinking about Patton. He wants those sleep heavy arms to wrap around him from behind in the kitchen. He could spend hours listening to awful puns or watching him light up when he sees a wild rabbit at the park. He feels drawn to him, like he wants to reach out while they sit near each other.  _ What has gotten into me? I never want to touch peopl _ e. 

He feels his most lucid, his most  _ alive _ , when him and Roman are being sarcastic and quick witted. Exchanging facts and soft verbal blows. They both seem to have a curiosity for unusual topics, Virgil used to collect them religiously and Roman is a writer so that’s kind of what he does. 

Logan is a still, safe presence. He is surprised to realize that he feels heard whenever they talk. That is rare nowadays. Logan wants to understand and ask questions about anything, even if it is not in his area of study. No one’s interests are out of bounds.

Even the bad things. Logan not knowing what to say. Him staying up way too late and working too hard without taking care of himself. Roman puts everything into his work and thinks it’s more important than his own happiness. Patton just wants to comfort and be positive about everything, which could be his downfall one day. Sometimes he is a little too chipper, his smile a little pasted on. They all are a little emotionally constipated, he thinks, all in their own ways. Maybe that’s something he can help them work on. If there is anything he can do to help them, he will do it in a second. He feels like their relationships are all so one sided, so lacking from his direction. It makes him feel guilty.

He cares for these people despite his best efforts. Maybe he thinks about them so fondly because they are the first people he has felt safe around in a while. Even still, the more he interacts with them, the more his heart aches from emotion. 

The chest aching is from feelings, he is pretty sure. His normal pain does not last this long or get worse whenever he thinks about people he cares about. He is almost sure it is not his ribs or fibro acting up. 

His little asexual mind goes into crisis mode. He has not had a crush since the beginning of high school. By now he had thought himself aromantic and asexual. He goes on google and starts researching what the fuck to do. He looks up alterous attraction and romantic attraction and queerplatonic relationships. One site suggests thinking about what type of relationship he wants with them. That’s a good question, and one he had not thought about. To be honest, what he wants is just more of the same. Being in their company. He would also enjoy casual touching and emotional closeness. But there is no way they would ever have him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took a little longer. I’m trying to alternate one chapter of my novel then one of this fic, but this last chapter was particularly tricky.   
> (Totally not based on me getting a crush this last year and rethinking my entire identity... /s)  
> As always, please give me any thoughts, criticism, pointing out spelling errors, etc.


	5. Late Nights

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: depreciating thoughts, food mention, panic attack, dissociation, dubious consent kiss  
> 5903 words  
> A/N: This is a longer one because the disaster gays actually decided to have important conversations! Good for them

_ Who knew someone could own so many blankets? _ Patton emerges with yet another, this one purple with a knotted fringe around the rim. He is wearing a grey cat onesie and the tail trails behind him as he disappears around the corner. Virgil hears the others chatting in the living room. Their voices are muffled by the whirring of the microwave and the popping of popcorn. His foot taps anxiously as he listens to the popping slow. 

He pours the steaming popcorn into a large bowl and comes out to find Logan pulling up Mulan, his head settled on Roman’s shoulder. Logan perks up when he dims the lights. Virgil sets the bowl down on the coffee table and is about to go to the chair when Patton scooches over and pats the spot between himself and Roman. 

_ Really? Is this okay? _ He glances up at Patton’s kind smile before stiffly sitting between them. He startles slightly when Patton unfurls the blanket over both their laps. The movie starts and he is able to focus on the beautiful animation and music. 

He takes in a sharp breath for the second time that night when an arm wraps its way over his shoulders. Roman gives him a dazzling smile and pulls his shoulder until Virgil actually settles back instead of sitting ramrod straight. He tentatively lets himself lean into Roman, who gives his shoulder a little squeeze. He is grateful that his head is down so the other does not see his face heating up. 

Over the course of the movie they adjust until Virgil’s head is pillowed on Roman’s chest. Patton curls into his side and by the even, heavy sound of his breath, Virgil is pretty sure he has fallen asleep. Something slots into place within Virgil. His heart feels full, and an unusual but not unwelcome stillness overtakes him. They linger like that through the credits, none of them wanting to move. 

Logan is the first to extract himself. “Well, I believe it would be best for me to retire to get adequate rest for tomorrow’s studies. I wish you all a good night.” He turns off the TV with a flick of the wrist.

“Good night, specs.” Roman says. His voice rumbles through his chest to where Virgil’s head still lies. Virgil closes his eyes and lets that low noise sweep through him. “He fell asleep, huh?”

Virgil turns his head to look fondly at Patton. His glasses are askew on his face and he looks so small with his knees pulled up and with a blanket wrapped around his shoulders. “Yeah. Out like a light.”

“Well,” Roman shifts, “I should probably get him to bed.”

Virgil extracts himself from under his arm while managing to not jostle Patton. Roman circles the coffee table and slips one arm under Patton’s legs and the other around his upper back. He lifts him up and Virgil watches as Patton buries his head against Roman’s chest. “Good night.” Virgil whispers.

“Good night.” Roman whispers back before carrying Patton back to his bedroom.

Virgil turns in and falls asleep the quickest he can remember doing in a long time. He wakes in the early hours of the morning with a deep ache through his body.  _ I’m in pain. Fuck I’m in pain,  _ he finds himself thinking, as if his mind is surprised it's still happening after all these years of constant pain. It doesn’t take long before he realizes it is useless to try to sleep more. He drags himself up and puts on his hoodie and makeup. He tiptoes out to the couch and dully notices the sky transition from midnight blue to deep azure to a pale robin’s egg.

The aching continues after he relocates. The pain feels deep, like it is coming from his bones themselves. He tries to distract himself with the comfort of his headphones and loud music. It helps somewhat, but his body just keeps screaming at him. After an hour or so, he gives in and gives his body a once over. It is so often that the pain signals are causeless, but every once in a while there is an actual reason. Throwback to when he found glass in his foot after assuming it was just his normal malfunctioning nervous system.

The left shoulder is the worst of it with pain radiating down to his hands. His arms have always been a particular source of pain for him, but typically not this early in the morning and not so persistent. He reaches up to probe his shoulder with his fingertips and works his way down. He feels a sharp pain when he finds the spot between his bicep and triceps.  _ Did I sleep in a weird position _ ? It takes him a moment to realize the cause.

_ Oh. Last night. I leaned against Roman.  _

He sat wrong with his shoulder against Roman’s chest and now his arm has pains radiating down it. Frustration surges through him. He has been so careful trying to take care of himself lately. Last night was a good experience, and it is so  _ unfair  _ that simply cuddling leaves him in too much pain to sleep the whole night through. 

The birds are loud outside the window despite how much Virgil wishes he could make time stand still. Despite how he wishes he could just go back to sleep. That he could wake up healthy. That he could get answers.

_ I can’t do this. God this fucking sucks. I’m just getting worse. _ His health is slowly declining month by month. His good days now look like his bad days three months ago. He gets worse even though fibromyalgia is not supposed to be progressive, but this is one of those underfunded illnesses where doctors don’t know the cause. No one knows what is happening to him and he is scared out of his mind. 

_ What if this is the best I ever am? It’s only getting worse. My life will never be better than it is now _ .  _ I don't want to put this on anyone else because they don’t deserve it. No one deserves this _ .  _ I’m broken beyond repair _ . He sobs brokenly without much sound. He’s good at being quiet during these times. But with the thin doors he’s still afraid someone will hear him sniffling. 

He really thought he could get used to this new life. Well, his cynicism wouldn’t let him truly believe it, but there was still a part of him that always hopes.

Maybe he can still get used to it though. He has to.

Everything about this day is awful and it hasn’t even started yet.

Virgil stays curled up in that plush chair in the living room for the next few hours. He puts his hood up and his headphones on and barely registers the others getting up. At least he doesn’t let himself care. He almost laughs at the next song to come up from his shuffled library. “Good Things Fall Apart” by Illenium plays just loud enough through his headphones to drown out all sound from the outside world.

He whips his headphones and hood off when he feels a hand on his shoulder. He lets out gasp in surprise and looks up with wild eyes.

“Whoah, didn’t mean to startle you there. Padre was wondering if you’ve eaten.” Roman says.

Virgil shakes his head. He does not have an appetite this morning. But he needs food in him to take his morning medications. Roman leads him into the kitchen. He keeps his head down and tries to ignore the glances the others give him. Roman hovers awkwardly by his side.  _ It’s fine. It’s human nature to look when there’s movement. It doesn’t mean they’re judging me, no matter how much it feels like it. _

All he can manage is to grab a banana and curl up at the dining table. The way the others turn toward him makes his shoulders rise defensively. Mercifully, Logan calls Roman over to talk about groceries.

Patton sits across from him with a big bowl of froot loops. It seems it is late, late enough that everyone has woken up. Virgil doesn’t want to look at the time. Patton scrolls idly on his phone. Not a minute later, he frowns. “Why’d you text me at 5am?” He looks up, his head tilted to the side.

“I dunno. I was awake and thinking about that conversation we had yesterday.”

“You were awake at 5?! You should go nap! Shoo! Go in your room and lie down.”

He doesn’t protest and lets Patton corral him into his bedroom. He does not point out that he’s an insomniac and takes hours to fall asleep. Nor that his back hurts too much to lie down right now. Instead he sits and listens to music for however long he thinks a normal person naps before he goes back out.  _ An hour is good right? 45 minutes? _

_ God I’ve got to get better at confrontation. _

He doesn’t lie. He never claims that he is going to or has taken a nap. He just avoids the subject, avoids telling Patton no. 

“Did you sleep?”

“I rested.”

“I’m so proud of you kiddo!”

Virgil looks at Patton with furrowed brows. “Why..?” He asks, suspicious. 

Patton giggles. “Oh look at you! You’re just a grumpy kitten aren’t you. Come here.” He opens up his arms for a hug.

Virgil knows he could step away but he does not want that bright smile to ever leave Patton’s face. He lifts his own arms and that smile gets impossibly brighter.

Virgil relaxes into the embrace, closing his eyes as he loses himself in the warmth. A calm radiates over his entire person and he is drunk on it. He holds on a little tighter and his heart does a cartwheel. Patton fits so perfectly in his arms that Virgil feels a surge of protectiveness. He had forgotten that his body can give him anything besides pain.

_ It’s just a hug. Patton hugs everyone. _ He scolds himself and pulls back. _ I’m so fucking stupid! Why do I think they could ever love me? You’d think I’d learn. _

Patton is touching his shoulder and looking at him with kind eyes and he can’t take it. It’s too good, he can’t cope. He dissociates a little until they go their separate ways. 

It’s like gaining the trust of a wild animal. The others have all the patience and compassion in the world, but Virgil does not know that. Not yet.

Patton insists on making their group dinner. He bans everyone from entering the kitchen while he works. Everyone is on high alert for the smell of smoke. They trust him, they really do, he just gets excited and distracted really easily. 

Virgil goes through the threshold and Patton jumps up from the island to tutt at him. “Let me through Pat, I’m just using the bathroom! Geez.”

There is the sound of chopping and sizzling on the stove. Patton comes in shortly and joins them on the couch. 

Roman looks up from his work. “What’s for dinner?”

“Can’t tell you. It’s a soup-rise.” Patton smiles.

“Is it soup?”

“I soup-pose it could be…”

“Stop making soup puns!” Roman says, exasperated.

“Nope.” He says cheerfully.

Anyway, they have pizza. The good homemade kind with premade dough from the store. It is a little thin in parts and overloaded with toppings but somehow it is better than any pizza they could have ordered. All that’s left are bits of burnt crust on their plates as they all sit and laugh. 

_ Content _ . That would be how Virgil would describe his current state. Full and happy. He rests his head on his fist and lets their voices sweep over him.

The muscle tension has spread over his back and neck. A migraine might be coming on judging by how bright everything seems. He groans internally.  _ Of course this perfect night has to be ruined by my stupid body _ . 

Sure enough, pain and nausea get worse as the night goes on. Virgil retreats into his room to stretch and use tiger balm. He ends up mostly in the fetal position and using his phone to distract himself.

He emerges to get some candied ginger from the kitchen and is surprised to open the door and find the light still on. It is hours after the others should have gone to sleep. He would be asleep himself if not for his nausea and insomnia.

He rounds the corner to find Logan in the center of a spread of papers on the living room floor. Logan’s necktie is hanging loose around his neck and his posture isn’t ramrod straight like normal. “Why are you still up?” Virgil asks.

Logan startles then reaches up to adjust his glasses. “Virgil. I would ask the same of you. But to answer your question, I still have an hour of work for my quantum mechanics class if I am to finish this by Wednesday.”

Virgil sits cross-legged on the couch. He still goes to his usual side, farthest from the other seats to not intrude, and closest to the exit. “I couldn’t sleep.” 

“Is something troubling you?”

“Just the usual things.” He shrugs. “I’ve been worse.”

“That does not mean your current circumstances are adequate.” Logan shifts some of his papers out of the way. 

“Yeah. Yeah I guess.” Virgil fiddles with the hem of his sleeves. There is a loose thread there which he twirls around his finger and tugs at. He glances back up and locks eyes with Logan, who looks unguarded compared to his usual stiff demeanor.

“Your eyes are spectacular.” Logan says, soft and almost breathless.

Virgil suddenly remembers that he has already taken off his makeup for the night. He feels naked without it, and ducks his head to hide under his hair. “Yeah right. Framed by purple circles under my eyes.”

“I’m not ridiculing you. The green at the center is accentuated in this lighting.”

He looks up and finds Logan knelt in front of him. The other drops his hand from the air like he had been reaching to touch Virgil but thought better of it at the last second. That intense gaze leaves Virgil stripped bare. He is trapped like a deer in the headlights by those deep blue eyes, unable to look away. 

That is, until he clears his throat and ducks his head. “Don’t you have more work to do?”

“Right. Yes.” Logan looks almost disappointed. By what, Virgil could never imagine. He has interrupted and cut even farther into Logan’s sleep schedule. Guilt presses against his chest.  _ I am just getting in the way again _ .

“Try to get enough sleep tonight, please.” Virgil says. “For me,” he adds, not quite sure why.

“Definitely. I hope you sleep well.”

“You too, specs.”

* * *

Patton is unusually grumbly and clingy this morning. The other two don’t seem to take notice, but Virgil is highly sensitive to any changes around him. Mostly to fuel his own anxiety. He keeps an eye out as he goes about his own day. It is a rest day for Virgil, but a school day for the others. Patton gets dressed and puts on layers, the softer clothes that he wears on bad days for comfort. 

Patton sniffles throughout the process of making himself mac-n-cheese. Virgil keeps an eye on him as he shuffles around the kitchen with hunched shoulders. He glances around the apartment but Roman has already left for class but should be back in an hour or so. If anyone is going to ask Patton what is wrong, it should be the most emotionally literate of their roommates. 

So he sits uselessly on the couch as Patton loads the dishwasher then begins to sweep. There is a muffled groan of discomfort which Virgil immediately recognizes. It’s the kind of sound he makes when he is in too much pain to sleep. He gives in and walks over to the other. Patton is grimacing and pushing the heel of his hand into his brow.

“I’m not sure you should be doing that. Here, let me take over.” Virgil places his hand onto the broom handle.

“I’m fine kiddo! Don’t worry about me, I just gotta try a little harder. I like taking care of you all and cleaning up is one way I get to do it.”

“Hey.” Virgil moves so they make eye contact. “Being sick isn’t a failing. Now quit cleaning and rest up so you can actually get better. God you’re hopeless, out here cleaning yourself into a coma.” He mutters.

“Alright alright I’ll stop.” Patton says. “You’re really kind, you know.”

“Stop that before someone hears you. You’ll ruin my bad boy reputation.” He says with a quirk of his lips.

Half an hour later Virgil catches the others in the living room and he alerts them that Patton is sick, just in case Patton decides to make bad decisions the second he leaves his sight. By the way Patton is making adorable puppy dog eyes at them and insisting that he is fine, Virgil is fairly sure he made the right choice.

“You should not attend your classes today.” Logan says, feeling Patton’s forehead with the back of his hand.

“I’m fine! I can manage.” Patton says. He is undermined by his stuffy voice.

“Not just for yourself, but you don’t want to get anyone else sick, do you?” Roman says.

He pauses, visibly recalculating. “I guess you’re right kiddo. I’ll email my profs.”

They settle on the couch, Patton typing out his emails and Virgil cracking open a book he has been putting off for ages. He happily curls up and tries to enter that place where the outside world melts away and it is just himself and the book. It almost works -- for a bit.

Until he doesn’t know how much time has passed and he realizes it takes tremendous effort to turn the page. Even to lift his arm. His eyes drag along his line of sight.  _ Shit I fucked up _ . 

Virgil has overused his spoons. He sits and breathes for a while, keeping his eyes open and pointed toward the book so he does not look strange if Roman decides to look up from his essay writing. 

He is weak on his feet as he goes to get himself water and lie down. Even a simple “okay” comes out slurred. He clings to the walls and door jams as he makes his way around the house. While in sight of the others he is able to do it more subtly. He laughs to himself that his fatigue would look like drunkenness from the outside. Sometimes you have to laugh at the absurdity of the situation, because the only alternative is to let it actually hit you.

They get Patton in bed with a Disney marathon, with actual soup this time. Virgil gets a small energy boost once they get dinner in him. The brain fog is still bad though. He is thankful when Roman suggests a documentary from Netflix. At least he will not have to hold a conversation. 

That is until the film actually starts. Everything about this documentary is setting him off. Roman insists that it is fun and he laughs at points and yells at the screen, telling the people that they were stupid or saying that the interviewee was totally the one running the secret twitter account.

There is a loud knock at the door.

Roman stands abruptly. “Shit. I forgot I made dinner plans with my brother. I’m gonna head out. Keep watching without me.” He grabs his keys and runs down to the front door. There is a ruckus as they greet each other -- both are dramatic in their own ways -- before Virgil hears an engine start and Roman’s car pulls out of the driveway. 

The documentary continues, but it wears at his frayed nerves in a way it didn’t while broken up by Roman’s commentary. He wishes Patton were there to lean against or even just to provide a soft blanket.

The interviewees are talking about how things went wrong at some festival. The footage is eerie in a way he cannot put his finger on. Maybe lingering on things a little too long. The music is definitely not helping, seeming more fitting for a horror soundtrack than a documentary.

He feels distant from the pain of the way his legs are pressing against each other and the couch. His back and neck are hurting.  _ When did they get this bad? _ His consciousness is almost able to grasp at thoughts but then they slip away. Because of this, he does not remember to shift his position on the couch, nor to take deep breaths or drink water to calm and ground himself. He just sits in this sensory limbo. The room does not look quite real. The documentary feels all encompassing yet far away at the same time. His breathing is coming shallow and fast. A moment after it happens, he realizes that the TV turns off. It takes considerable effort to tear his eyes from the screen and remember his surroundings.

“Virgil?”

He pulls his knees up to his chest. His heart is pounding and his vision is narrowing. Everything is tingling and hurting and numb and  _ holy shit my body is fucked _ . The memory of his brain fog and constant pain does not help him to stop spiralling.

“Virgil I need you to breathe with me.”

There is something giving his hand gentle squeezes. He faintly registers instructions and counting for his inhale, holding of breath, then exhale. After a few tries he is able to manage following along. Logan’s hand intertwined with his comes into focus. For a moment he just thinks about how right holding Logan’s hand feels. He slowly comes more into his body and the situation. After a moment he realizes his own hand is sweaty and pulls away.

“It is alright. Continue taking deep breaths to activate your vagus nerve. Your tidal breathing has become too shallow due to your distress.”

Virgil is too fatigued to understand the meaning of Logan’s words. They seem to slip in one ear then fall out the other. He does continue focusing on his breathing. He is puzzled. Usually he only has panic attacks when he is alone in his room -- as if they catch up to him once he reaches a safe space.

The feeling of the ridges of his hoodie sleeve registers in his brain as he subconsciously fiddles with them.  _ Deep breaths. Calm down _ . His brow furrows as he takes in how his limbs shake. Logan is sitting beside him and changes from looking alert and ready to deal with a crisis to deep in thought. It gives Virgil a minute to center himself.

“We need to discuss what just occurred. In addition to some recent events.”

Virgil scoffs and ignores the way his muscles tense defensively. It feels like he is being confronted, and he probably is. It’s not the best time for him to discuss this. He is not at his most lucid and his brain is still fairly foggy, but there is no guarantee that tomorrow will be any better. He decides to give it a shot. Maybe he’s less tired than he thinks. He nods to Logan.

“For example, when you ran from the kitchen without explanation last week.”

“Yeah, I’m- I’m sorry about that.” His mouth stumbles over the words and his voice croaks. It is the first time he has spoken for over an hour.

“I hypothesized that you would be more inclined to explain what is bothering you if it were just Roman. I do not know why that did not put you at ease.”

“Why would I need to be put at ease? I’m not some little kid. I can take care of myself.” He spits out, offended.

Logan levels him with a gaze. “Virgil, you clearly were in distress. And this is nowhere in the realm of the first time this has occurred. Each time all three of us were present, you refused to illuminate us on the situation. You seemed to be increasingly comfortable with Roman in particular. Hence why I told him to ask you about it alone.”

His face heats up at the mention of him and Roman being close. He is torn between being offended and touched that Logan put so much thought into this.  _ Who knew he paid so much attention to me? _ His comments are so on point that it causes Virgil to feel cornered. He’s just too tired to evade these to-the-point questions. If he stays, he will probably reveal too much. He stands with the intent of making an excuse and leaving, only to feel weak and dizzy and having sit back down. He leans forward to rest his head in his hands. 

“The last thing we intend to do is cause a panic attack. If there is ever something we can do to help-”

“It’s not- It is not that simple.”

“Explain it to me then.” 

Virgil looks up. Logan is leaning forward with an open yet determined set to his face. Everything about him says that he is listening --  _ actually  _ listening instead of just living inside of his own expectations of what Virgil has to say. He realizes that if he did ask for help or volunteer information, Logan would probably just ask a follow up question.

So he tells him everything. About the pain and the fatigue. How it is constant but varies day by day. That he has to monitor his health and pace himself in everything he does. Logan listens. He truly listens. 

“Fibromyalgia comes with a shit ton of symptoms and is ridiculously underfunded.”

“And you take significant medication for this, yes? Hence the pill sorter?”

“Yeah. But this is me with all the treatments.” He sighs and shoves his jittery hands deeper into his pockets. “I was fucking terrified of you guys finding out and thinking less of me. I didn’t want things to change or you guys to treat me differently.”

“I do not understand, would you not need us to treat you differently so we can assist you? Such as being aware of when you experience brain fog or get overwhelmed?”

Virgil’s brain stalls out for a second. “I can’t- I, I don’t want to do that to you all.”

“You would not be doing something to us. You are suffering and we would like to alleviate that suffering as much as possible.”

“There’s nothing you can do. I’ve got it handled, alright?” Virgil snaps.

Logan backs off. “Well, I am honored that you told me. I apologize that I am inept in the realm of emotional support.”

“It’s good actually. I’m sick of people pitying me.” There is the squeak of the screen door opening then the rattle of keys. “Speaking of, please don’t tell the others?”

He gives him a puzzled look. “Certainly, although I cannot understand why.”

“Just, I need to do this in my own time. Okay?”

“Alright.”

Roman slams the front door behind him. “I have returned!” He bellows as he bounds up the final steps, arms outstretched. “Did I miss anything?”

“Naw, just some netflix binging.” Virgil ignores the uncertain look Logan gives him.

They make up for Roman’s absence the following night, this time it is just Virgil and Roman. He would be suspicious if not for Patton coughing dryly from his bedroom and if Logan didn’t go to the library to study every other evening. He insisted he would be back for a late dinner after his last research sprint.

So it is just the two of them. Virgil wonders once again how Roman would react if he told him about his illness. This dramatic man who is always loud, but has a soft side too. He thinks back to the bus.  _ It can’t go that bad, right? _ He thinks, as if he is not already imagining a hundred different ways this whole thing could go wrong. 

Roman leans forward to set down the remote, and settles back on the couch, hip to hip with Virgil. Despite his best efforts, Virgil still has this extra energy that comes out by worrying his lip between his teeth and jimmying his ankle. Their knees brush together occasionally.

The two put on some trashy 80’s horror movie, old enough that it is funnier than it is scary. They roast the characters and their now stereotypical horror movie idiocy. 

“Really? You think it’s a good idea to go off by yourself?” Virgil asks the blonde girl on screen.

“Oh come on!” Roman bellows. “Knife guy’s walking slowly and you seriously cannot outrun him?”

Virgil snorts, a smile breaking across his face. He boos at the screen exaggeratedly. 

Now, it has been a couple years since Virgil forced himself to date. Needless to say it did not go well. It’s a pretty good rule of thumb to never force yourself to date someone. 

He always thought he’d have warning if someone tried to kiss him again. He would have time to push them away or to mentally prepare himself. He would duck his head and explain that he is asexual. 

Not this time. 

One moment he and Roman are sitting side by side. Virgil is laughing. Then all of a sudden there's a face on his. He stiffens up and his brain shoots out of his body.  _ This isn't happening, this isn’t happening.  _

He is existing somewhere behind and a little left of his body. Time slows down. For a moment he forgets what is happening, he is that removed from the situation. He thinks about it like he would reflect on events days later.  _ This is Roman, I like him right? Yeah well wanting to cuddle and swapping saliva are two different things.  _

Virgil pulls back when his mind gains control of his body. “I’m sorry.” He manages to say before he darts down the stairs and out the front door. If there is someone calling after him, he cannot hear it over the roaring of his thoughts and adrenaline coursing through his body.

He is afloat in a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions. His body runs on autopilot as it carries him away from the apartment. It is a cold night, the chill grounding him a little in the sensation of wind through his hoodie and shoes.

_ Why would he even… Hasn’t he been paying attention? Why me? _

The only conclusion he can come to is that it must have been a spur of the moment thing. Which Virgil likes less than the impossible alternative that Roman could actually like him back.  _ Roman must just be physically attracted to me and I happened to be there. Just great. Fuck, I don’t want to explain to him that no matter how much I like him, I will probably never feel sexually attracted to him. God, that never goes right. _

Virgil sits on the hard-packed ground and watches the bunnies graze on the lawn by the quad. The cold soaks through his jeans almost instantly. He does not go back until his hands and feet are numb.

He is lucky he still had his keys in his pocket when he fled. He starts up the stairs.  _ It’s quiet. That’s a good sign _ . It’s around the time when Patton goes to bed and everyone else winds down in their rooms on a school night. Virgil continues around the bend then stops, his whole body tensing and his shoulders hunching.

“Virgil.” Roman is sitting at the top of the stairs, hair a mess like he’d been running his hands through it for the past hour. Virgil flinches at the emotion in that one word. “Wait, don’t run. Please, just come sit down.” He leads the way into the living room and Virgil has no choice but to follow. 

Roman sits in the armchair, giving Virgil space and allowing him multiple escape routes. His appreciation is drowned out by mounting dread. _Is this it? Am I going to be kicked out finally?_ _Is the only way Roman wanted to interact with me in a sexual way?_ He has been going over their interactions for the past few hours and thinking how stupid he was to think they were actually forging something emotionally deep. He does that a lot, misreading attraction for friendship.

“Do you want to sit?”

“Yeah one second.”  _ If everything is ending right now, I might as well be in a little less pain. _ Virgil grabs his heat pad and plugs it in next to the couch. It clicks loudly as he turns up the temperature. He avoids Romans eyes and slouches so his elbows rest on his knees. “Just rip off the bandaid Princey. I know I fucked up.”

“What? No! I was the one who wronged  _ you _ !”

Virgil turns bewildered eyes to him. “I’m not sure I’m following.” He says, slowly.

“I thought I had read the signs right but I did not ask for consent, my stormcloud.” Virgil’s heart flutters. “That was very ungentlemanly of me. You must think me awful. And I will have you in whatever capacity you feel comfortable. The last thing I want to do is to make you uncomfortable.”

“Wait, what?” Virgil's mind struggles to do a 180. He was so prepared to be yelled at, but now looking at Roman’s guilty eyes, he realizes this man was expecting it the other way around. “You’re not getting rid of me?

“No! I admit I have romantic feelings for you but I will keep them under wraps if they are not returned.”

_ Wait, what? Roman has… what is going on? _ He pushes his thoughts aside to address the man sitting there with a fearful expression. “God this is a fucking mess.” Virgil rubs at his temples.

Roman makes a pained noise in the back of his throat like a kicked puppy. Virgil would do almost anything to not hear that sound again. 

“I have feelings for you too, you idiot! I just… kissing makes me uncomfortable usually. I’m willing to try it, just with a little more warning next time.”

“I thought -- with you running and all…” Roman looks so small in the armchair. 

“Well, fight or flight, you know? That’s my specialty. And I never want to fight you.”

“I’d prefer to never make you run, either.”

“I’m sorry about that. I just needed to clear my head.”

“Okay. We’re okay, right?” 

“Yeah, we’re okay.” 

Roman looks wrecked still, but there is a glint of hope in his eye. He is watching Virgil carefully to make sure he is truthful in his words. Virgil has the urge to wrap Roman up in a blanket.  _ Patton’s really rubbing off on me _ . 

He stands and takes a few steps toward the chair. A bold feeling has eclipsed the fear from earlier. He opens his arms. Roman searches Virgil’s face with big eyes. At a nod and a quirk of his lips, Roman stands and envelops him in a soft yet solid hug. Virgil clings to him with desperation.  _ Roman likes me? _ Is all his brain can seem to manage. He sinks deeper into the hug, happy and tingly and more than a little giddy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My writing tumblr is writeintrees.tumblr.com  
> As always I welcome all comments <3, even if you are pointing out a typo


	6. Confession

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N I’m glad I didn’t lose you guys because of this being both about pain and asexuality. I can’t fully separate those two things from my experience.  
> This chapter is dedicated to my ex who said I just need to drink more coffee and my chronic fatigue would be gone. Fuck that guy. Just proving how little he listened to me. I’ve gotten so many responses over the years but it’s worse when I actually care what they think.  
> Remember kids, communication is key to any type of relationship! It’s cliche but it’s so true.
> 
> CW: ableism. self deprecating thoughts and anxiety like always.  
> 5988 words

Virgil is reaching into the cupboard for a glass when warm arms wrap around his middle. Startling a little, he looks down to see Patton’s bedhead nestled into his side. His heart does a little in his chest and he cannot keep himself from smiling. 

“You can bring him here if you want.” Roman’s tired voice calls from across the kitchen.

Virgil shakes his head. He settles his arm around Patton and holds him tight. For a few minutes he simply stands there, chest full and happy. Warmth radiates from the points of contact. 

He makes tea for Patton while Logan makes the coffee. When both are ready, he slides Patton onto a stool and presses the warm mug into his hands. Roman is already sipping at his sweetened coffee.

Virgil takes his place at the kitchen table across from Logan, and lets his mind wander. It is feeling more and more like he is living a lie. It never felt that way before he got so attached to these people. The more he thinks, the more wrong it feels to be around the others without telling them what he is feeling, especially Patton. Sweet Patton with his kind eyes with whom Virgil never wants to disturb the waters. He absolutely hates how guilty he feels. They have a good thing going and he is terrified of it all going away. But whether he likes it or not, his secrets are going to find a way to the light.

Nothing seems right when he tries to practice what to say. For his pain it is so easy to make light of it or to say things that would scare them. As for his feelings for them _ … I don’t really want much to change, so why can’t I just settle for what I have right now? Why do I still fantasize about telling them? The closest I can figure is I’m feeling queerplatonic attraction. Maybe romantic attraction but the kissing is confusing me. I am not sure whether it is my asexuality or my pain that makes that a less than pleasant activity. If I tell them I have feelings but don’t want sex or kissing, will they even understand? Of course Roman is confused, it’s fucking confusing! _

He groans and puts his head in his hands. He hopes that the others take it as him not being a morning person. 

As everyone wakes up, Virgil brings his homework into the living room and starts scratching out equations. He likes this class. He is able to tune out and just rearrange equations until they output an answer. Algebra always came intuitively to him.

The others join him, although not all of them are doing homework. Patton has a phone game up that involves puppies and candy. Logan is glaring at his work as if that will make it cooperate any better. 

Patton follows Virgil's gaze and gives a little frown. “You okay Logi Bear?”

“Yes. I simply seem to be stuck, that is all.”

“Aw darn! Well, let us know if we can help?” Patton loops his hand onto Logan’s forearm, loose enough that he can still type. Logan nods absently in response.

“Maybe we can be your rubber duck?” Virgil asks. Patton and Roman look at him like he’s grown not only a second but also a third head. He loses his momentum. “You know, um, like programmers sometimes use?”

A lightbulb goes on behind Logan’s eyes. “Brilliant idea Virgil! It has been shown that explaining one's code aloud to even a simple rubber duck can reveal flaws in the programmer's logic or offer overlooked solutions!”

“Yeah! So just talk to us and maybe you’ll figure out where your problem is.”

Everything Logan says goes right over their heads, but mid-sentence his eyes widen and he goes quiet as his fingers fly across the keyboard. Virgil smirks, happy that his idea worked and that they were able to help. 

Before long Virgil’s brain slows down with fog so he retreats to his room and sets a heating pad up against the small of his back. He leaves his door open, just in case.  _ Silly, why would they want to come to you anyway?  _ He looks down at the beat up sketchpad in his hand. His finger runs over the metal rings that make up the spine.

_ If I just had hobbies, then my depression would be better right? _ Over the years he has had to give up his outlets one by one because they caused more harm than they were worth. Rowing, debate, even walking along the beach or through the forest became too much. By the time he gets there, he is in too much pain to be able to enjoy the scenery.

He cracks open the sketchpad and turns to the last page.  _ God, it’s really been months? What has been stopping me? Nope, stop that, just start drawing _ . He starts filling the page with faces, trying to vary their structure. There is frustration at not being able to get them to look the way he sees in his head. After some erasing and redrawing, it gets just a little closer. Even out of practice as he is, it is nice to get something on the page. A small bud of satisfaction blooms within his chest.

He looks up at the gentle rap of fingers against wood, and closes the sketchbook. 

Roman is poised in his doorframe. “Hey, can we talk?”

A jolt of fear courses through Virgil. A hundred different scenarios start playing through his head.  _ He doesn’t like me anymore. He never did, it was all a joke and I played right into it. I must have done something stupid. Did I forget something important? _

“Virgil?”

“Yeah? Oh yes you can come in.”

Roman closes the door behind him and his adrenalin doubles, his heart pounding.  _ What is so bad that he does not want the others to hear? _ He pulls his sleeves over his hands and fidgets with the ridges of material there. Roman crosses the room and takes a hold of Virgil’s hands. He looks up, lower lip still worrying between his teeth, to meet Roman’s  _ so kind, too kind _ eyes.

“Hey, it’s nothing bad, I promise.” He soothes his thumbs over the backs of Virgil’s hands. “I just wanted to talk about our mutual feelings for each other.”

“Okay. If you aren’t interested anymore I understand.”

“What? No! Unless you aren’t- I mean, I’ll take you in whatever capacity you are comfortable.”

“Hey, that’s my line.” Virgil laughs dryly. “Look at us two insecure idiots.”

“Watch who you call an idiot! I for one have proof you are one of the most intelligent people I know.”

Virgil rolls his eyes but is immediately happier after the compliment. His intelligence is a hard subject for him since his brain fog took so much of his brain power away from him. “Yeah but look at Pocket Protector, he’s the smartest in the room but he can be a moron sometimes.”

“True.” Roman laughs. “Very true.”

“So, um, I guess we’ve established that we both still like each other.”

“Absolutely.”

“Okay. Okay so do you want to talk boundaries?”

They discuss what they both are comfortable with. Roman is good at easing Virgil’s worries that he will not be enough, and is patient when Virgil does not know the answer to a question. They figure it out together. At the end of the conversation Virgil is not wound as tightly, but he is exhausted.

Roman stands but does not leave quite yet. He cocks his head to the side as he studies Virgil’s face. “Do you need a hug?”

He is ready to refuse out of habit but resists the urge. He nods and steps into one of Roman’s bear hugs. He feels hidden and safe, like his hoodie but ten times better.  _ Maybe I can just stay here for the rest of my life.  _ He holds on a little tighter.

Roman runs his hand up and down his spine. “You’re warm.” He mumbles when he reaches Virgil’s lower back.

His heart does a little flop at the rumble of Roman’s voice as it reverberates through his chest. “Heat pad.”

They stay that way for a minute before Roman heads out. Virgil lies down to save up some spoons for the rest of the day. He stares at the ceiling with only positive thoughts at the forefront of his mind.

Roman enters the kitchen where Logan is filling his mug with coffee. Roman wonders what cup he is on now.

“What were you two discussing?” Logan asks.

Roman’s eyes dart towards Virgil’s room. “It’s a secret.”

“He told you as well?” Logan looks surprised but relieved. “And? How did you react?”

“It’s a bit to work through, but I’m glad he told me.”

“Oh thank goodness.” He takes in a steadying breath. “I was afraid you would balk.”

“Nope, we’re going to figure this thing out together.”

* * *

Virgil is scrolling idly on his phone and enjoying the quiet while the loud roommates are off at their respective classes. His hopes of a quiet afternoon are quickly dashed when Logan enters.

“Alright.” Logan drops a pile of papers onto the coffee table in front of Virgil. There are post-its sticking out from three sides and little colored dividers separating it into sections. 

“What’s this?”

“Research.” He pulls out the first section. “The green is on Fibromyalgia, the orange on Chronic Fatigue Syndrome, and the pink on unspecified pain disorders.”

Virgil blinks and sets down his phone slowly. “And… why exactly did you print all this shit out?”

“I wanted to assist you in your treatment plan.”

He bristles. “What the fuck? I didn’t ask for you to do this!”

“I am aware. I simply believed that I could be of some assistance.”

“And why do you think that looking online for an hour suddenly makes you an expert?”

“I apologize if I overstepped any boundaries. I concluded that with your fatigue you likely are unable to do in depth research on the subject, albeit now I am reconsidering whether or not that was a false conclusion.”

Virgil scrubs a hand across his eyes. He takes a slow, deep breath, switching modes. “It’s alright, it just reminds me of when other people send me ideas. Out of context articles without citations or with a too small sample size have been weaponized against me for most of my life and used as evidence that I’m not trying hard enough to get better.” He leans to look at the papers in Logan’s hand. “You know, I’m kind of an expert after all these years, but I’m trying to be open minded. Show me what you found.”

He actually has a well researched map of remedies and studies. Some things that Virgil had never heard of. It turns out that high intensity interval training was debunked as a treatment, which makes Virgil glad he did not make it into that children’s hospital pain bootcamp way back when. Logan keeps bringing up ideas and Virgil shoots them down.

Logan frowns. “I do not understand. If you have truly given all of those treatments a chance, why are you not well?” He is genuinely confused and not accusing, although Virgil still feels the stake driving itself into his chest.  _ You’re not doing enough. It’s your fault you’re ill. _

“Logan, please.” He says weakly. “I can’t deal with another person who refuses to accept my reality and only wants me to be cured. There’s a difference between a treatment and a magic button that fixes everything.” 

There is a pause as that sinks in. “What helps most?” Logan finally asks.

“Well, I do a shit ton of things every day. Pacing, icing and heating, tiger balm, physical therapy, eating an anti-inflammatory diet, you fucking name it. The thing is, I have changed my entire life because of this illness, and it does help. I need to get better at meditating regularly though. And going on walks. That’s about all the exercise I can do right now.”

“Alright. I will assist where I can. Alert me if I overstep any boundaries.”

“Thank you. I’ll try.”

Roman and Patton come back from classes, exhausted and wanting to do something to distract themselves from academics. Patton lights up and suggests that they make a pillow fort. The multitude of blankets that he keeps in his closet come in handy as they gather all their chairs, pillows, and blankets for the venture. Virgil sits against the wall and watches because his back is not up for any lifting. 

When it’s finished, he lets Patton cover his eyes for a big reveal. “Patton, I was here while you built it.” He shuts up with a small smile while he is shushed and guided inside the fort.

“Okay kiddo, open up!” 

Patton removes his hands and Virgil has to admit that he is impressed. The harsh overhead light is cream colored when it filters through the blankets that cover the fort. 

“This is the cuddle puddle spot!” Patton points to a gathering of pillows and blankets. He is grinning and his leg is bouncing as he gives the grand tour. “So we can all watch movies and cuddle and eat yummy food. Isn’t it great?”

“It’s perfect Pat.”

Roman comes in through the blankets draped at the entrance. “How’s it lookin?”

“Pretty damn good.” Virgil says.

“Hey! Language.”

“You cannot silence me.”  _ Pfft, I sound like Roman. I need to stop hanging out with these dorks.  _

“Oh yeah?” There is a glint in Patton’s eye. “Is that a challenge?”

Virgil smirks. “Sure. I’m curious what you-” He cuts off with a squeal as Patton jabs his fingers into Virgil’s side. He bites his lips, trying to stifle his laughter as he is tackled and thrashes on the ground. He looks up to meet the amused expression on Roman’s face, the other clearly not moving to help. “Patton- AH! I never knew- oof- you were so- conniving.” He tries to catch his breath between the hands tickling his sides and armpits.

“Patton? I require assistance.” Logan’s voice comes from outside the fort just in time to save Virgil.

Patton flashes a grin as he sits up, adjusting the sweater over his shoulders. “Coming!” 

Virgil is still trying to even out his breathing, and it is not entirely because of the tickling. His mood has brightened just with that brief interaction, even though there is still the feeling of jabbing fingers in his side. He looks with sad eyes as Patton exits the pillow fort. 

Roman snorts and punches Virgil’s shoulder. “What? Do you also want to date my boyfriend or something?” He asks, laughing. He sobers when he notices how spooked Virgil looks. “Wait -- hold up --  _ do  _ you have feelings for him?”

“Um… I think so? It’s kinda harder to tell because I’m asexual, but I haven’t felt drawn like this to anyone in a really long time.”

“Anyone else you have a crush on that you need to tell me about?”

“Not that it’s any of your business, but kind of... Um- God damn it why am I so anxious?!” He says angrily at his own lap. “I like all three of you, alright?” He takes a moment to gather the courage to look up at Roman, preparing for whatever he may find in the other’s face. 

Roman is grinning. “You looove us. Hey guys, Virgil loves us!”

Virgil shushes him with an intense, jittery energy that makes Roman stop teasing him. He grabs Virgil’s hands from wringing the edges of his hoodie and gives him a reassuring smile.

“Aww! ILY too Virgil!” Patton calls from outside the fort.

“Yeah but in what way?” Virgil whispers mostly to himself.

“Well, why don’t you just ask him?” Roman says, as if that were an easy task. He smiles as if there is the possibility that Patton could actually care about him that way.

Virgil takes one of his hands back and pulls his knees up to his chest. He looks away as the fingers of his free hand interlock with Roman’s. He feels their twined hands lift and is about to pull away to apologize when he feels lips press to his knuckles. His brain stutters to a halt. His bewildered eyes meet Roman’s, which are smug and sparkling with mischief. Virgil is radiating heat and unzips his hoodie, trying desperately to get himself together by the time the others duck into the fort. 

“Okay you  _ cook-ie _ kids, let me just  _ pop  _ in so we can get this party underway!” Patton ducks his head in and promptly trips on a blanket. Only a few pieces of popcorn spill before Logan catches hold of his elbow and guides him safely into the ‘cuddle puddle’ space with the snacks.

Logan and Patton sit on the other side of Roman. Roman’s thumb is gently rubbing the back of Virgil’s hand where their hands are still intertwined. 

They release their hold for a second to let Virgil take his hoodie fully off. He is self conscious without his armor on, but he breathes and reminds himself that it’s in the presence of his favorite people.  _ I am safe with them _ . 

They all settle in for a movie and  _ wow is that Disney+ subscription giving them their money’s worth _ .

He tries to sit upright at the outskirts. He really tries. But every position hurts and despite how much he suppresses the need to shift positions, he seems to distract Roman. He is slowly changing from hugging his knees to leaning back propped up on his hands when he sees movement out of the corner of his eye. 

“Hey, you alright?” Roman leans in to whisper.

Virgil nods despite the pain in his wrists and hips.  _ I can get through this. It’s just a stupid movie I should be able to do this.  _

“Here, lean against me.” His voice is adamant. He gives a smile and beckons Virgil with one hand.

Virgil rests his head carefully against Roman’s shoulder, still holding most of his body weight and his muscles faintly shaking with the strain of keeping upright. Roman’s hand settles on his waist and pulls him snug against his side, tucked under his arm. Virgil’s brain putters out and he feels like he’s gone into a freefall. He relaxes against the soft mass of the body behind him.

He is hyper aware of everything going on around him, ready for the other shoe to drop. But it never does. And he feels his senses calm as the movie progresse,. It is strange how comfort can become uncomfortable simply in its unfamiliarity. He never realized why things like cuddling felt so dangerous until he started getting used to them. With Patton and Roman giving him casual touches he noticed how physical comfort had been absent from his life. 

Patton reaches across Roman’s broad chest and takes hold of Virgil’s hand. He turns the palm upwards and traces the lines there. Absentmindedly as the movie goes on, he runs his fingertips featherlight over Virgil's arm. He draws squiggles and loops there, interspersed with hearts and smiley faces.

Virgil feels so full and happy that he can barely contain it. He is not sure his heart can take any more without exploding. Roman gives him a reassuring squeeze.

* * *

Virgil is asleep with his pillowed on Roman’s thigh. His face is relaxed, the ever present furrow in his brow gone for the first time the others can remember. His breaths come slow and even unlike the hummingbird breath that comes from him so frequently. 

The other two are sitting in what Patton calls criss-cross-applesauce and Logan calls easy position. Virgil hugs onto himself a little tighter. His hands are clinging desperately to his own sides. Patton lays a blanket over him and tucks the blanket beneath Virgil’s chin like a parent checking on their child late at night. The three of them look down at him like something precious. 

Patton lets out a tiny squeal, “I just want to hug him and kiss him all over!”

“I am astonished he fell asleep. He is not one to nap.” Logan whispers.

“What do you mean Lolo? He napped just last week!” Patton frowns.

“Not truly. He expressed to me in private that he simply went into his bedroom because he did not wish to disappoint you.”

Patton looks distraught. “Oh no! Have I been too hard on him? I could never be disappointed in him.”

“It’s okay, love. He is just an anxious mess sometimes.” Roman reassures.

“He’s  _ our  _ anxious mess.” Patton’s voice is fiercely protective and full of love.

In that moment Virgil groans and pulls his knees upward to curl in on himself. His face scrunches up and Patton runs his fingers through the other’s hair, hushing him ever so gently. 

“Yeah, about that. We should all probably talk.” Roman says. 

Virgil rolls over on Roman’s thigh then bolts upright, gasping for air. His head is hung and his eyes unseeing as he rubs at his arm with his opposite hand. His fingers probe into the muscles there, grimacing and keeping pressure at a particular spot. He whispers to himself quietly so the others can barely make out the words: “I’m safe I’m safe I’m safe.” It is a string of reassurances with no pauses.

A moment later, a puzzled look overcomes him. He glances around at the blankets then dazedly notices the others all staring at him. There is nowhere for them to go or look to reduce his embarrassment. Color floods his cheeks and he groans, covering his face with his hands. 

“Is your arm okay kiddo?” 

“Yeah. I’m fine.” He says automatically, trying to eke all the cheer he can muster into his words. They still sound strained, him not prepared to fake wellness so quickly after waking.

Logan gives him a pointed look. 

He wants so badly to keep pretending everything is okay. To keep getting Patton hugs and be treated just like the others. But he knows that is not going to work for him anymore. He pulls his hoodie onto his shoulders and fights the urge to leave it at ‘I’m fine.’

Logan tips his head at him as if to say:  _ it’s alright, you can tell them _ . 

“Actually... No, I’m not fine. But promise you won’t freak out?” He looks between Patton who is nodding emphatically and Roman who is looking at him with an unreadable expression. He holds eye contact until Roman gives a solemn nod. “It's not progressive or contagious or anything but... I’m ill. I hurt and I’m fatigued all the time and that’s just the way I live so you’d better get on board okay?” A steady hand grabs his and he realizes how high his hackles have raised. Logan gives him a nod. He takes a deep breath.  _ Give them a chance to respond before you assume the worst _ . “It is called fibromyalgia and it is a pain condition where things hurt when they shouldn’t and when something hurts, it hurts more than it’s supposed to. Then there are a shit ton of secondary symptoms off of that. I spend a lot of my day just managing my illness.” He looks up and finds the other’s faces unreadable.

“No you’re okay. You’ll find a good doctor. You’re stronger than this fibro thingy.” Patton brushes it off with a smile. He puts a hand on top of Virgil’s, which immediately pulls away from the touch.

Roman stands abruptly and a chair screeches when he bumps his head against one of the blankets. “What? No you don’t look like you’re in pain!” He fumbles with the roof of the pillow fort before angrily tearing it down. Light pours in, harsh and unfiltered.

Virgil tries not to notice how his eyes prick. At how his entire life has just been minimized by a couple words. He pulls his knees against himself and adjusts his hoodie to provide more protection to his bruising heart.

Roman grows louder, talking to the walls themselves as he paces around in the hole he created. “There’s got to be a cure! Have you tried meditation? My aunt used to have knee problems but meditation got rid of them.” There is something in his voice akin to desperation.

The hollow feeling in Virgil’s chest is replaced by a burst of anger. He allows himself to feel how unfair this all is. “I know you’re used to everyone being healthy but I’ve been begging for a cure for years. Me sick being still is not for lack of trying. And it’s not due to a moral failing that I’m ill. I just… am.” 

“I just don’t want you to be in pain.” Patton’s voice has grown small.

He whirls toward him. “But I’m in pain all the time Pat! I’m in pain and it sucks but you ignoring it just leaves me to bear it alone. God and you wonder why I hid it from you?” He stands and slips through the half-fallen curtain to exit the destroyed pillow fort. With more than a little frustration, he realizes he doesn’t know where to go. He fumes while deciding whether to lock himself into his bedroom or to storm out the front door before the others realize where he has gone.

Logan appears beside him and seems to sense his tension. “Venus is particularly visible this weekend. Would you like to accompany me on a walk?”

He nods gratefully and lets Logan lead him outside. Going together feels less like running away somehow. He closes his eyes against the gentle breeze, taking in the crisp air. The smells and sights help to clear his head even though the greenery is indistinct in the light of dusk.

They are halfway to the park when he gets a text. Dread seeps through him when he sees it’s from Roman.  _ That boisterous idiot that I love _ . He stops at the street corner in the glow of brakelights. The traffic light changes from green to yellow, sending strange colored shadows off from their feet. He opens the text. 

“Fuck!” He yells. 

He reads over the article title again: “can cannabis treat fibromyalgia better than prescription drugs?”  _ Oh fuck that. _ He kicks a lamp pole with all his might then immediately regrets it as pain radiates up his leg and into his hip. 

He grips his hair tightly between his fingers. It’s not that he is against cannabinoids, he just has tried them and they don’t work for him. He has a hard time explaining exactly why this reaction from the others bothers him so much. Maybe because so many people think their random ideas and first google results will solve all his problems. As if he and multiple doctors haven’t been trying for literal  _ years _ . But he knows how this goes. The frustration, the well intentioned suggestions that make him feel like he is not trying hard enough, then before long they give up on him and say they can’t deal with so much negativity and baggage. 

_ It hurts. I really liked these ones. I shouldn’t be surprised though. Besides, they are better off without me. It’s an objective fact. _ He turns to look at Logan, prepared for whatever horrified look may be on his face. Instead he is met with soft eyes and gentle hands that guide his phone into his pocket and pull him towards the park.

They walk side by side in silence. A couple bunnies hop out of the way as they walk to the middle of the field. They lie down beside each other. As they look upward, it looks like the entirety of the night sky stretches above them. Virgil bends his knees to lessen his back pain. 

He watches Logan gaze up into the stars. His whole body is in profile, lined gold by the street lamp on the far side of the park. His dark hair lifts softly on the air currents and his face is open with wonder.

Virgil lies back and lets his gaze set on the brightest point above him. It is a clear night with a few wispy clouds which drift by on high up air currents. As his mind meditates on the sky and gets caught up in the thoughts it stirs up, his body seems to drift from his consciousness. He is floating -- or more accurately they are, because Logan does not leave him. They are two bodies, weightless, drifting in an infinity of blackness speckled with solar bodies trillions of miles away. Some Logan says are already dead, the only proof they were ever here being the light continuing through space. Most of us glance upward and don’t know what has happened.  _ Do we all do that? See what once was and not what is. Only nearing the truth as we get closer?  _

His parents still see a smart kid who can do whatever he sets his mind to. He thinks back to Logan, and to Patton and Roman.  _ I want to see them for who they actually are. I want them to feel seen and understood. I want to get as close as I can get, even if I get burned, because it is just an honor to be within their light and observing their brilliance. I don't care that this is only temporary. That this friendship will end and I will be left behind. That none of this will matter in hundreds of years when we are all forgotten. What happens today matters.  _

The sting of rejection still cuts through him, fresh and painful.  _ The pain means you’re alive _ , he reminds himself.  _ If I am going to make the most of this moment in time, I should try to work things out with them. Maybe apologize. Backtrack. Whatever it takes to be with them for a little longer. _

It hurts  _ so fucking much _ to have this reaction yet again. They will try to fix him and when they realize this chronic illness is in fact  _ chronic _ , they will give up. Either they will go back how it used to be and try to will his disability out of existence by turning a blind eye, or it will be too much for them and they’ll leave. It happens every time. 

His chest constricts a little tighter, his breathing coming quick and shallow.  _ Fuck. I was so hopeful about them. I shouldn’t have told them. At least when they didn’t know any better I couldn’t blame them for the hurtful comments. _

Logan speaks up and pulls him out of his spiral. “Why do you say you are fine when you are certainly nothing of the sort?”

“I don’t know.” He says, huffing his breath. “Sometimes I mean I’m stably not okay. I’m as bad as usual and I’ve dealt with way worse. If I’m not actively dying I feel like I should pretend things are status quo. But I don’t even know what status quo is even supposed to mean anymore.” He huffs a bitter laugh. “Sometimes ‘I’m fine’ means I need to rest but I press on until I can split from the group because I don’t want to disrupt the fun. It would be selfish to bring everyone down with me so I just take care of myself quietly. I’m trying to make my life as normal as possible so saying I’m okay gives me some semblance of normalcy. It’s weird, I know.”

“It sounds reasonable to me.”

“Really?” Virgil looks over and finds that Logan’s head is already tipped to the side, watching him.

Logan gives him a solemn nod. How he is able to look so serious while lying in a field is beyond him. A long piece of grass is swaying right below his nose, looking like it will tickle him at any movement.

“Look at us, two high-schoolers sneaking out to have a date and look at the stars.” He tries to laugh but finds his voice strained. “Hope our dads won’t be too mad when we get back.”

“We are in college Virgil.”  _ Always so literal _ . “Give them time. This is all novel to them.”

“I know. I just hate that I’m forced to put on a brave face and comfort  _ them  _ about  _ my  _ condition. Isn’t it supposed to be the other way around? Aren’t they supposed to give  _ me  _ emotional support?”

“You do not have to lie.”

“Then what am I supposed to do?! Say I am miserable and watch them crumble? I hate seeing them upset or disappointed in me. Fuck-” Tears smear out the stars above them and his voice wobbles. “The way they reacted made me want to take it all back. I never want to be the cause of more pain or to burden them. It’s so fucking frustrating.”

“All you did was state the reality. How they react is their own responsibility.”

“I wish I could believe that. I really do.” His breaths are coming in little hiccups as he keeps seeing the anger in Roman’s face and the hurt and denial in Patton’s.

“Then I will be here to remind you. They will process their emotions in time. It will get easier.”

Virgil closes his eyes. “It will get easier.” He repeats to himself. 

“They simply do not understand. Neither do I, but I am trying.”

“I hope you never do. Truly. I don’t want any of you to get ill like this.” He snorts. “It fucking sucks.” 

They lie in the grass for a silent moment. Virgil realizes how much better he is feeling. The anger and hurt has eased to a minor ache in his chest. He feels so heard by Logan that he wonders why he did not come clean about his pain earlier. 

“Hey, didn’t we come out here to look at some stars or planets or whatever? Dazzle me with that big brain of yours.” He smirks. 

Logan looks up without missing a beat. “Certainly. Now if you look to the northeast, that is Cassiopeia…”

* * *

Virgil has expressed how on edge and exhausted he is. They enter to find the other two sitting in the living room but Logan ushers Virgil to his bedroom. The door clicks shut behind him. He is not up for a follow up conversation tonight, and Logan respects that. 

Logan sits with his hands crossed on his lap. The room has been rearranged back to normal. He looks to Roman, who looks a little shocked but no longer boiling over with rage. There is a question that has been tugging at Logan’s mind for over an hour now. “If this was not the secret to which you were referring, what is the information Virgil disclosed to you?”

He blushes. “Well, this one is a bit more benign.” He glances over at Patton. “Um… I’m wondering about expanding our polycue.”

“Really?” Patton squeals, a grin breaking across his face.

“I am not following this conversation.” Logan says, a puzzled look on his face.

“Virgil likes us!”

“Us as in…?” Logan trails off. They both look to Roman, who has the decency to look bashful. 

“I really should have done this while Virgil is here. And it may all be different because I caused him to run again.”

“Again?”

“I’ll tell you the story of our disastrous first kiss later. But Virgil likes ‘us’ as in all three of us.” He turns to Logan. “I don’t know much about your romantic orientation, Specs, but-”

“Yes.” An awed smile has crept across Logan’s lips. “I would be honored. I never wanted to overstep-”

“Oh Lolo!” Patton squeals and launches himself onto Logan. He presses a kiss to his cheek and burrows into his collar as he hugs him ferociously. 

Logan returns the hug, practically glowing. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Let me know what you think!  
> I have more writing on my writing tumblr: writeintrees.tumblr.com


	7. Acceptance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter CW: pain, self depreciating thoughts, panic attack  
> 7140 words  
> Each chapter is a little longer and a little angstier than I meant it to be whoops. Also I have zero experience with polyamory negotiations so forgive me for how clunky that is.   
> Thank you all for being patient. School with my illness is rough right now.  
> [Patton put those emojis in Logan’s phone and he doesn’t have the heart to change it]

Virgil has stress dreams all night, seeing the people he loves in various scenarios. Either they are laughing at him or talking about him behind his back or they are in pain and Virgil is the one who turns away. He wakes up with his chest aching. It is difficult to pull in enough air. He sits up and scrubs his hand over his face.

He knocks back his anti-inflammatories and swipes on some foundation and eyeshadow. He glowers at his reflection in the mirror for a moment. There is a bang from the kitchen. He stops in his tracks, anxiety surging through his stomach and making him so nauseous he has to sit on the end of his bed. He pulls out his phone.

To L 📓👔🔭: [hey] [am i safe to come out?]

To Virgil Sanders 🐼⛈: [Patton and Roman are not awake yet, if that is to what you are referring.]

To L: [yeah. be right out]

Virgil cringes as his door creaks open. Patton’s door is still closed across the hall. He lets out a tense breath and exits his cave. Logan is milling around the kitchen, preparing himself oatmeal and coffee. 

Instead of going to his usual spot at the dining table, Virgil leans against the counter, wringing the edges of his sleeves between his hands. He looks up, biting the inside of his cheek and waiting for Logan to finish with what he is doing. 

After a moment Logan dries his hands and cocks his head, giving Virgil his full attention. “Are you alright?”

“I don’t think I can do this.”

“To what are you referring?”

“This!” Virgil says, sweeping his arms around. “Me, Patton, Roman. God it  _ hurts _ . I can’t deal with it. I just want things to be normal.”

“You can manage this. I promise it will not be as bad as you are thinking.”

Virgil hums noncommittally. He fidgets against the counter for a few minutes before giving in and sitting at the table where he proceeds to rial himself up with worse case scenarios. Something moves in the center of his vision and he focuses his eyes. Logan slides a bowl of oatmeal in front of him, along with a bag of dried cranberries and some chocolate chips.

“I did not know precisely how you prefer it prepared.”

“Thanks Lo.” Virgil says sincerely. He takes some deep, calming breaths and lets himself feel the warm ceramic and smell the steam. Tension still spiderwebs across his back. 

“I read that the triggering of the sympathetic nervous system in pain patients can lead to significant muscle tension. Gentle massage can aid in relieving it. I can try, if you are willing.”

“Maybe I’ll be up for it in a bit. I don’t think I could cope with even a little worse pain right now if I’m being honest.”

By the time there is any sign of the others, Virgil’s bowl is empty and Logan is on his second cup of coffee. The sound of the latch clicking sends a jolt of adrenaline through Virgil. He sucks in a sharp breath and feels whatever stress he had distracted himself from come back full force. He is surprised to see not only Patton come from his bedroom but Roman as well. Patton is slotted against Roman’s side, his arm wrapped around Roman’s waist while Roman’s arm is draped over Patton’s shoulders. 

Virgil turns away from them. His arm curls around his own middle protectively. He forces himself to scroll on his phone even though he couldn’t care less about what is on the screen and can only think about what is happening in the room, his anxious brain tracking the sound of every movement.

There is a tension in the air. Out of his periphery Virgil can see the other’s furrowed-brow glances in his direction. They look away before he can meet their eyes. His heart is pounding against his ribcage and his face is hot from the anxiety storming near the surface. Everything is kicked into high gear and he is afraid he is going to act rashly. He tries to distract himself with Tumblr but it is not working and he is so tempted to leave, but is also afraid of drawing any more attention to himself.

The day goes by in careful side-steps. They act like everything is normal but everything is for sure not normal. Virgil has to fight his instincts to run away, but he doesn’t because he promised Roman he would try not to. That conversation feels so distant now. Now that they can barely look at each other and Virgil is freaking out trying to read every movement to see what the other is thinking. The silence in the living room frays his nerves and he has to blast his music to begin to forget about everything.

He also notices that the others are avoiding touching him. There’s no knocking knees sitting side by side, no casual bumps or touches. In fact, he finds himself alone on the opposite side of the room more often than not. He would be angry if he weren’t so sad and anxious. It is happening just like his mind has been dreading.  _ They’re edging me out of their lives _ . 

The conversation topics are carefully avoidant of his symptoms. No one makes jokes about him being “spicy” with the scent of his tiger balm. They carefully look away when he pulls out ice or heat. He doesn’t hide it in his room anymore.  _ Isn’t that the reason I told them? So I no longer have to lie? It still feels wrong somehow. _

_ It’s fine. They’re still in my life. But it hurts. Oh fuck my heart hurts but I can cope right?  _

He has class the next morning. He is pretty sure he spent more time last night contemplating the past few days than he actually spent sleeping. It is the first thing on his mind when he wakes, so he lies there staring at the ceiling and trying to prepare for the worst case scenarios.  _ I don’t have time to overthink this, let alone the energy _ . Every cell in his body feels the spoons lipping away and he wonders what that would look like. Maybe like that scene in Howl’s Moving Castle, green goo pooling beneath him as he lies there.

He drags himself out of bed and puts on the same clothes discarded onto his chair the day before. He does not bother being embarrassed.  _ I just wear the same hoodie everyday anyway, would anyone even notice? _ With his headphones on, he slips on his pre-tied shoes and is out the door without a word. 

Patton’s door unlatches. “Did we miss him?” There is the sound of the screen door creaking closed outside.

“I believe so.” 

Patton turns around and buries himself into Roman’s chest. Roman wraps his arms tightly around him in return. He runs his fingers absently through Patton’s hair.

“Hey, let’s join Specs in the living room.”

Patton reluctantly lets go and walks to the couch. Logan is typing away, sitting ramrod straight in the armchair. Roman sits down and Patton slots himself against his side. 

The two have barely been apart since Virgil’s confession. Patton feels on edge and is only calmed by physical contact. Who he wants to touch the most is Virgil, but he cannot even look at him without wanting to cry. All he sees is the anxiety and the pain in the way his face scrunches and the way he holds his body. Patton is beating himself up for not noticing. He does not understand how he never saw it before. Maybe because he always hopes things are good, to the point of ignoring the bad.

Patton whimpers and clings even more tightly. “I don’t want him to be in pain.” His voice is small.

“We know, Pat.” Roman murmurs.

“Why can’t we just take it all away?”

“Unfortunately that is not how the world operates.” Logan closes his laptop and sets it on the coffee table.

Patton sniffles. “I wish it  _ did  _ work that way though.”

They sit for a moment, all staring into space and thinking.

“Virgil is truly distressed by the reaction to his confession.”

Roman nods. “Understandable. I- I overreacted.” He runs a hand roughly through his hair. “It was a shock.”

“I attempted to explain this possibility. However he seemed convinced you had rejected him in some way.”

Roman mutters a profanity.

“Why would he have to hide this? I thought we were all being honest with each other. I thought-” Patton cuts off with his hand over his mouth to muffle a sob.

“It appears that in Virgil’s experience, honesty about his condition leads to injury.”

“All I want to do is apologize and hug him but touch hurts? How am I supposed to make this right when my first instinct will hurt him?” Roman says, his voice betraying intense emotion. 

“I want to hug him so bad it hurts.” Patton tightens his grip around Roman.

“Patton, I believe we require your expertise.” Logan folds his hands. “What is the optimal way to go about this? Providing him space or lending an ear perhaps?”

“It depends on how he is feeling. Talking could be good, but I don’t want to overwhelm him.”

Roman laughs bitterly. “It’s just one thing after another, isn’t it.”

“I think that’s just life, kiddo.”

* * *

Virgil is sweating despite the cold. Nothing is quite in focus, so he just tunnel visions, focusing on one thing at a time because that is the most he can do.  _ One foot in front of the other. Don’t trip _ . He has completely overdone it. He stayed on campus between classes because he did not want to go home, but he was too anxious to lie down with so many people in the building so he has been in an uncomfortable position for hours. He just wants distraction right now.

He almost walks right past their house. It takes tremendous effort to unlock and open the door. He kicks off his shoes and school bag, latches his bedroom door, and just slumps under the weight of his own body. He shakily smears tiger balm over the offending muscles and tries to distract himself until it takes effect.

Noise cancelling headphones securely over his ears, Virgil sits on the side of his bed and pulls a book out from his nightstand. He tries to read but within minutes notices his eyes dragging. The meaning behind each sentence becomes fuzzier as he goes on and by the time he reaches the end of the paragraph, whatever he just read is completely gone. 

He tunes into his body. Most of the time he just tries to block out the false alarms of pain signals and continue as usual. The reality hits him like a punch to the chest. He had not realized how much pain he is in. His bones and muscles are aching so deeply that he cannot hold himself still. The joints are also pained and worsened by the movement of his foot bouncing.

_ God dammit this is fucking hopeless.  _ He wonders how this pain has completely eclipsed his life. And it just seeps into every relationship he has and poisons it, between him lying and them not being able to deal with the truth. “God dammit!” He slams his fist into his thigh which causes a short, sharp pain to radiate outward. His breath catches and he realizes how labored his breathing has become. His muscles clench into full body sobs and he scrunches his eyes so tightly shut that his vision is speckled with light.

Everything hurts and he doesn’t know what to do. The world is spinning when he opens his eyes again. His brain is so foggy that he can’t begin to figure out what is going on. It hurts to the point where it feels like it spreads outside the confines of his body. Each source bleeds out pain like watercolor on a paper towel, and he is saturated with the sharp pains and bone and muscle aches with no relief in sight. No area left untouched.

His brain cannot fully form thoughts, it is just emotions streaking by too quickly for him to make sense of them. Fear, grief, love, despair. He looks down at the carpet with unseeing eyes. His fingers tangle into his hair and clench tightly. The tether between his fingers grounds him somewhat, but with the pain comes the reminder of the conversation last night. Vivid images of Patton’s hurt and Roman’s anger come to mind. He clenches his teeth and gasps, unable to keep himself from making sound.  _ They hate me. They’re going to ask me to leave. They were just tolerating me and maybe Roman realized I’m too broken to be with and I’m losing fucking everything.  _

_ Stupid. Things were going so well until I opened my mouth.  _

Virgil’s fingers and face start buzzing from breathing too fast. The sensation quickly becomes too much and all encompassing to the point of not being able to process what is happening around him. 

There is a period of time where he is overcome with emotion but still disconnected from his body. He could not say how long it lasts. How long before he distantly notices a sound. Maybe a knock on the door, maybe someone talking in the other room. Another sob wracks his body and he struggles to breathe. He is not aware enough of his body to distinguish the gentle touch on his shoulder apart from the buzzing that covers his skin and his body shaking from crying.

What is unmistakable is the solid weight of an arm around his front. He feels himself being pulled against a broad chest. He furrows his brows at the pain blossoming at the pressure on his upper arm. The grip changes and the pain eases a bit. He relaxes into the hold. 

Another hand tentatively touches his own and he clings to it for all he’s worth.  _ It’s probably still weak _ , he notes with dark humor at his fatigue. But he squeezes as hard as he can without worrying about hurting the other person.

He can’t bring himself to care much. All he can think about is the anxiety that is still overwhelming him and the warmth around him and how safe he is feeling. The hurricane of negative emotions slows down to a summer breeze. His chest loosens and he can  _ breathe. _

He cracks open his eyes to find himself surrounded. Everything is still bleary and it takes effort to keep his eyelids open but it is unmistakable. There they are. Even Roman and Patton. 

He is against a soft chest and when he breathes in, it smells like Roman. Sitting across from him with a hand on Virgil’s knee is Logan. Then on his other side on the bed is Patton.

“Hi there.” Patton says, hushed. His smile is brittle but his thumb is rubbing little circles so gently into the back of his hand. 

_ Probably thinks he will hurt me _ . Virgil’s eyebrows knit with discontent. His heart feels battered and raw. He is getting whiplash between the cold shoulder he was getting before and the loving touches now. At least the look on Patton’s face is the same. Scared and empathetic and Virgil wants so bad to change it into a smile.

His breathing naturally evens out as they sit there and the fatigue sets back in at full force. The last wisps of fight-or-flight keep him awake even though thinking and moving and  _ existing  _ still take tremendous effort.

“Come to the living room with us?” Roman asks.

He is not sure he can even sit upright on his own at this point. “Don’t think-- can’t stand.” He closes his eyes.  _ Everything takes too much energy _ . 

He prepares himself to be slid back onto his bed. It is simple in his mind, he cannot go to the living room, they are leaving, therefore they will leave him behind. Of course he does not think in such complete and logical terms. He’s used to being left behind. He will just do his own thing and get well enough to be able to perform normalcy. Maybe he can join them in an hour after staring at the ceiling for a bit.

He feels himself being maneuvered in Roman’s grasp. His body gets ready to ease himself down but he is puzzled to feel one arm hook under his knees and the other wrapping behind his back. Next thing he knows, he is being lifted.

“I’m- okay.” He murmurs, trying to get across that they can leave him.

“No. No you’re not.” Roman rumbles back, carrying him out of his bedroom.

_ But I don’t want you to have to bother with me. I will just have to recharge for a bit. I won’t be able to do much if I come with.  _

He is adjusted in Roman’s grip as they sit and he feels each of his hands be taken. He cracks his eyes open to see the worried expression on Patton’s face.

He curls a little, instinctively making himself smaller. “‘m sorry.” Forming words is still difficult. 

“There’s nothing to be sorry for, love.” 

Virgil’s lips quirk at the nickname. He squeezes the other’s hand. There is a matching squeeze in the other, where he now notices Logan’s arm intertwined with his own.

He has to admit, it is a lot more pleasant recovering from fatigue here than it is alone in his bedroom. Instead of only having the white of his ceiling to look at, he gets to watch the small expressions Patton makes as he fidgets with his phone and absently rubs the back of Virgil’s hand (which hurts a little, but he does not dare pull away for fear of losing the weight of the other’s hand in his own). The places of touch are grounding. Roman beneath him, the slow rise and fall of his chest, the low vibration as he hums at something or other. There is the sound of pages being turned and keys being pressed by Logan behind him.

There is no panic at the vulnerability of all this. Virgil always recovers behind closed doors or around blind corners. It feels wrong for them to see him like this,  _ but also somehow right? _ He does not have the energy to contemplate it right now. There is just an undercurrent of comfort and he lets himself lean into it.

He shifts to test out how heavy his limbs feel. The fingers of his free hand flex easily enough, same with wiggling his feet. 

“You alright?” Roman whispers near his ear. 

He nods and his mouth twitches.  _ I’ve dealt with worse _ and  _ this happens all the time _ . Both seem like things that, although true, would upset the other. Instead he opts to stay quiet.

“I don’t know if I messed up in touching you.” Roman sounds guilty.

Virgil shakes his head adamantly. “No, it’s perfect.” He cranes his head back to look in Roman’s eyes. He gives a small but real smile. “I think I’m gonna duck into the kitchen though, so you’re gonna have to let go of me.”

“Oh. Alright.” Roman falters. “Do you-”

“I don’t need help.” He pushes himself to seated and stands as quickly as he dares to prove his point. He is relieved that he does not sway.

“I have to get water anyway.” Roman says, standing as well.

Virgil tries to hide how he grabs onto the doorframe and countertops as he goes. He slides some leftovers into the microwave then sinks down to the floor. There is the thunk of the water filter turning on and the echo of water rushing in. The sound gets higher as it goes until there is another thunk of the tap turning off. He tips his head against the cabinet behind him as he waits for the microwave. 

Roman sits beside him, their shoulders brushing. “I don’t think today’s the best day to have a full talk. That’s what we had come to your room for: to talk about everything. To apologize mostly.”

“Yeah, my brain’s mush.”

“And that’s because of your…” He waves his hand vaguely.

“Because of me being chronically ill, yeah. Also panic attacks take a lot out of me.” He shoves his hands into his pockets. “Can you guys stop fucking tiptoeing around this?”

“Of course. Sorry, I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“Just treat it like it’s normal. When you live with this shit it becomes as regular and boring as having short hair.”  _ Bad example but I’m lucky I’m not too foggy for a simile _ .

“You could never be boring.” Roman looks at him with soft eyes.

Virgil snorts at the flirting and swipes at his face.

“Hey, this is just like the ace stuff. We’ll figure it out together, My Chemically Imbalanced Romance.”

“Thank you. And thanks for not getting angry again.”

“Yeah that was probably the last thing you needed right then. But you know I’m not angry at you, right? I’m angry  _ for  _ you. I wish this wasn’t happening to you.”

“But it is.”

“And I’ll be here to help you however I can.”

The microwave goes off and Roman stands, offering a hand. Virgil takes it.

* * *

It takes a few minutes for the bunnies to return after Patton’s overjoyed squeals scare them off. He and Virgil are sitting against the big concrete dividers on the edge of the field. The sun has just set and casts a rosy glow on the scene. Four bunnies are in view before them, heads down as they nibble at blades of grass.

It is so much easier talking one on one. It’s still freaking hard, don’t get him wrong, but the only reason he is considering asking the question that’s been on his mind for a while now is because of how much less pressure it is with just Patton here.

“Hey Patton?” The other hums in response. “Um- what does… What’s being polyamorous like? How did you know you wanted to date multiple people at once?”

“Oh! Well I don’t know, it’s simple really. I just love more than one person and love when they are loved. It makes me happy to see Roman with you. I think monogamous people would feel bad or jealous.“ Patton bites his lip, not wanting to give anything away. “Any reason you’re asking?”

Virgil looks away. “I was just curious.”

Patton cannot say he is surprised. Virgil does not talk until he is ready, even if he could have benefitted from speaking up earlier. He can wait however long it takes though. “We love you, you know that right?”

Virgil scoffs, a bitter undertone to the sound. “People never love me, they love the idea of me. And as soon as they realize I won’t be magically healed, they leave.” He says offhandedly. The statement is final and there is no doubt in his voice that this is how he sees things. 

He gasps softly when Patton’s hand comes up to cup his cheek. Gently. Oh so gently. The look in his eyes is kind and only has the smallest tinge of pity.  _ No, this look is too fond. It must be meant for one of the others. _ He feels trapped in this gaze he wants so desperately to stay in forever yet never thought he’d be deserving of. 

“Oh sweetheart. We will try our best to not hurt you like that.”

Virgil looks away and the warmth of the hand falls away. He wishes he could believe that so easily. Instead he takes the next few minutes of silence to try to convince himself that there’s hope. That he deserves to be seen and loved for who he is.

After a bit, the chill starts to set in and they stand to leave. Once again he notices Patton reach out but retract his hand, scared to touch Virgil. 

He decides to be the initiator for once. “Hey Pat? Can I have a hug?”

Patton’s eyes are big. “It won’t hurt you?”

He cannot promise it won’t hurt. But sometimes things that hurt are so worth it. “I’ll pull away if I don’t want it.”

“Promise?”

“Promise I’ll try my best.” He is notoriously bad at calling others out when they hurt him with good intentions. He is painfully aware of this fact. But he will still try.

School work has been taking up all his time and energy and he cannot believe it has been weeks since the pillow fort and he still hasn’t asked the others out. It’s stressful to think about and he has no idea how to bring it up. Logan’s the wild card here, he doesn’t even know if he is aromantic or not. 

The next school day is hard but does not hit him as hard as he dreaded. He is tired but the pain is not far from baseline. Luckily there is nothing more he has to do today so he can simply recharge. He is too fatigued to do much more than listen to music so he lies down and takes up the whole couch. Roman is clacking away at his computer. The fan hums slightly and leaves a comfortable silence in the room. 

There is the squeak of a doorknob and bounding footsteps. Virgil cranes his head to see Patton turn the corner. He makes to get up. The cord to his headphones tangles and he has to fumble for a moment to gather it so everything comes with him. 

“It’s okay kiddo. You can stay lying down.” Patton rounds the coffee table and slides onto the other end of the couch. He maneuvers Virgil's legs as he sits. 

The warmth of gentle hands through the fabric of his skinny jeans causes Virgil to relax back into his spot. He relishes the contact. He had been comfortable before, but now he wouldn’t leave for the world. Nothing short of free MCR tickets could get him to abandon this position. 

* * *

It’s their movie night and Virgil feels like shit. Not bad enough that he  _ has  _ to duck out, but probably enough that he  _ should _ . 

Logan is throwing popcorn and m&ms into the other two’s mouths. Patton is adorably bad at catching them, closing his eyes and moving forward too enthusiastically so it bounces off his nose and he descends into giggles. With a precise flick of the wrist the next one takes air and Roman catches it expertly and grins.

The last thing Virgil wants to do is to disrupt the happy atmosphere that has filled their living room. But it is getting later and Virgil’s back hurts no matter which way he shifts his position and they haven’t even started the movie yet.

“Want me to pull up… um,” he flounders, “the movie with the marshmallow robot and kids with sciency super powers…” He does repetitive motions with his hand, hoping the words will come to him.

“Big Hero 6?”

“Yeah. I’ll bring it up.”  _ Selfish. Why can’t you just let them have their fun? _ He grabs the remote and starts navigating. But he keeps typing the letters out of order and he cannot concentrate. 

Logan takes pity on him and takes the remote from his hands, typing in the words twice as fast. “How are you faring? How is your pain?”

“Not… great? To be honest.”

“Oh no! Why didn’t you say anything?” Patton asks with a frown.

“I don’t want to mess up the movie night.” Already the mood is shifting. His burdens are dampening any lighthearted atmosphere and he makes his best effort to seem neutral about it all. To feign fine-ness.

Patton tilts his head and makes sure to get eye contact before he adds: “Taking care of yourself is important too.” He says it nonchalantly like he didn’t just rip open Virgil’s heart. If he notices the blush heating Virgil’s face, he does not make a big deal of it.

Logan finishes pulling up the film but instead of just pressing play, he deliberately sets down the remote and turns to Virgil, whose shoulders raise at the attention directed his way. 

“I suspect you are suffering from some cognitive distortions. We care about you, and it is the duty of friends to help carry each other’s burdens. No one can do it all alone.”

Virgil swallows thickly and mutters a disbelieving “okay.” With some negotiation they rearrange until he is lying on the couch. Patton is sitting with his back to the couch, his legs out in a relaxed V. Virgil still wants to insist that he can deal, that Patton does not have to be booted off the couch. But he has been told that everyone else is perfectly comfortable with these positions and he has to admit that his pain is not fogging up his mind like it was before. He is able to enjoy the movie without counting down the minutes until pain relief. 

It feels strange, having them know. All of his instincts go against it. But he knows that over time he can change that. It is not a quick process but he wants to put the effort in if it means more moments like this where instead of looking from the outside in, the others know what’s going on and work to accommodate him.

And he gets to be present for the entire movie night and hear everyone’s commentary.  _ I’m so fucking lucky. _ But there is still this nagging in the back of his mind.  _ I am here physically but not able to contribute much. Almost anyone else would be here with four times the energy, laughing and making witty comments. They could have anyone else. _

The credits roll and Virgil offers to take in the empty popcorn bowl but Roman says he’s got it. Virgil shrinks into the corner of the couch, everything out of his mouth either an “I’m sorry” or a “thank you.” He feels helpless and one thought just won’t unstick from the forefront of his brain. It takes effort to not just blurt it out in a rush of words and be done with it. 

The others mill about. Patton folds the blankets. Logan picks up the stray popcorn and m&ms from their earlier game. Virgil tries to help but he is not much use, only a few pieces in his hand to contribute to Logan’s cup-full.

“You all would be better off without me.” He says finally, once everyone is back in the room and not as distracted. He scrunches his eyes closed and takes in a deep breath before allowing himself to take in the gazes of the other three.

Logan’s eyebrows furrow. “How exactly do you think yourself lacking?”

Virgil laughs bitterly. “Seriously? I can’t hold a conversation. I forget words. I lose things and forget to do chores. My stupid fucking memory gets in the way. Everything is being taken away by this fucking illness and I’m like a shell of a human being. You all are so smart and capable and you deserve someone smart and capable too.”

“Oh hun.” Patton says, his voice strained. He sniffles loudly.

“Shit and now I’ve made Patton cry. See if I weren’t such a fucking mess of a human being, then this wouldn’t happen. I’m sorry but you guys deserve a better roommate and- and friend.” He starts to stand, not wanting to subject the others to his ugly sobbing, which he feels building in the back of his throat. 

“No kiddo please stay. I’m allowed to have emotions. That’s not a bad thing and it’s not your fault. I’m just worried about you.”

Virgil tenses at that. He closes his eyes to let a tear slip down his own cheek. Patton looks at the others pleadingly. 

“We don’t want another roommate.” Roman says. When Virgil gives him a panicked look he continues. “We only want you, you anxious mess.”

Logan speaks last. “You seem to be under the impression that you are lacking in some way and we would reject you after this revelation. It must have taken incredible courage to tell us despite fearing rejection. Still, it seems you require reassurance that you are loved.” 

Virgil looks up at them with big eyes. 

“People are only made better by their quirks.” Roman says. 

“It’s true!” Patton chirps. “The cracks are how the light gets in!”

“Okay.” Virgil furrows his brow. “Yeah I see that for all of you. But how does me being ill add anything?”

“Oh that’s easy! You’re so cute when you concentrate. Like when you forget a word and your eyebrows scrunch up like a little bunny. Kinda like what you’re doing now.” Patton says. He boops Virgil on the nose.

“You can be told a story multiple times and because of that not-stupid memory, you smile and laugh as if it is your first time hearing it.” Roman says.

“It’s endearing to say the least. And despite your challenges, you keep trying with incredible determination. So much so that people often miss it.” Logan adds.

Virgil's face is hot. He ducks under his bangs.  _ God what did I do to deserve them? _ “Um.” His voice breaks. “Thank you. This means a lot.” They all smile so sincerely up at him. He can’t help but return it.  _ What the fuck how are they so cute?? _

A rare sense of comfort and boldness swells up inside him. Just enough to quiet his anxieties for a moment. Just a moment. Just- “Would you guys want to date?” The question stings in the air for a second but that second feels like an eternity. Quickly he tries to backpedal, to cushion the blow. “I mean, it’s cool if you’re not interested. I was just wondering- well because I… I don’t know that’s stupid.”

“Not stupid at all Virge.” Patton. “I’ve liked you for a bit now.” 

“Myself as well.” Comes Logan's voice. 

Virgil takes a moment to process.  _ No fuckin way.  _ “What?” He looks up, shocked but hopeful. He looks to Roman to confirm that he didn’t mishear. Roman has a confident smile on his face and motions his head towards the two men sitting beside Virgil on the couch. 

“Dating sounds wonderful. We just knew that with everything going on, you’d probably need to be the one to ask.”

“Yeah.” Virgil rubs at the back of his neck. “Shit, it’s about time I wasn’t the one confessing. Or the only one confessing at least.” A smile breaks across his face unbidden. 

“Well I confess that you are freaking cute and we wouldn’t replace you for the world.” Patton says as he stands. “Now come here.” 

Virgil goes into the hug with no hesitation. His eyes close and he squeezes back tightly, never wanting to let go. He is surprised when he feels warmth against his side, then the other, the four of them wrapped in a tangle of limbs with Virgil in the center. His breaths come easy and slow and he knows somewhere deep in his being that this is where he is meant to be.

It ends too quickly, but there is no fear of the gesture being a fluke. There will be many more where that came from. A giddy feeling sparks just under his skin.  _ They like me too _ .

As Patton pulls away, he slides his hands down Virgil’s arms until he is cradling his hands and looking him dead in the eye. “Rest if you need to rest kiddo. We will be here for you when you’re feeling well enough to rejoin us.” 

* * *

Virgil wakes up and knows that this is a good day. There is more energy and a lower level of pain in his body than a typical day. The others catch onto it quickly. Patton makes more dad jokes than usual and Virgil snorts at each.

Roman insists on being the one to accompany him on his walk. Virgil was just planning on going to the park to see the trees and bunnies before coming back. It should not be draining today and the nature is good for his mental health. When he makes to turn at the end of the street, Roman tugs at his sleeve with a secret smile and leads them towards the center of campus. Despite the inquisitive looks being shot his way, Roman does not reveal what is going on.

They stop in front of the Boulder. It is a school tradition to paint the Boulder, but Virgil has never felt well enough to do it. It is currently decorated white with some person’s personal blog scrawled messily on it in light blue. 

“What’s going through that big beautiful mind of yours?”

“I’ve never painted the Boulder before. Also that’s a shitty spray job.”

“Think you could do better?”

“Yeah, I-” A metal clank draws his attention. Roman is extending a spray can his way. Another is held in his other hand. Virgil breaks into a smile. “Wait, really?”

Roman shrugs, but his face gives away his excitement. “Thought you should have a chance to do it, us being seniors and all.”

“I’m going to be a senior for a while.” Virgil says for a lack of other arguments. 

He takes great satisfaction in taking that purple paint to the canvas before him. Roman follows his lead as he gets into the zone, outlining a cloud in purple and directing Roman to make a jagged lightning bolt striking through it in red. They leave their initials as a signature: V + R. It ends up looking more like the bathroom stall graffiti of a lovestruck high school girl but that doesn’t bother either of them.

Just as they are finishing, they notice a uniformed person coming down the path toward them.

“Oh shit!” Roman exclaims. Virgil gives him a funny look. “They found us! We must make our great escape.” He somehow finds the right mix of dramatism and realism in his exclamation for Virgil to go along with it. They hurry back the way they came, their shoes making loud smacks against the pavement that can barely be heard behind their laughter. The patrolman is definitely not chasing them but they run like they are being pursued just for the fun of it. A laugh bubbles up from Virgil’s belly, leaving him light and breathless.  _ I feel so alive right now. _

They slow towards the end of the block, their shoulders knocking together. There is a big smile on Virgil’s face. _ I cannot believe that I actually got to be young and reckless.  _

* * *

There are good days and bad days. The weather warms and Patton suggests they make a picnic. They set the date a week beforehand so they can all mentally prepare and Virgil can save up spoons the day before. He does take it easy, but sometimes these things are unpredictable, so here he is in the worst pain day of the last week. He has been so excited for today that he doesn’t want to admit it to himself, let alone the others. He is getting better at transparency all the time. Today is just not a good day on any front.

So Virgil is walking in back as they make their way to the lawn.

_ I’ve just got to get through this. _ He keeps his head down and tries to breathe through the pain.  _ How the fuck is this my life? Goddamn it I’m in pain! Fuck!  _ He grimaces and glares ahead like he is glaring at the universe for dealing him this fate. 

“Hey, Virgil, are you with us?”

“No.” He says honestly. 

“Okay.” Roman runs his hand through his hair. “Guys hold up!” He calls before turning and placing his fingers over Virgil's shoulder. “How about if we sit and breathe for a sec, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

He perches on the concrete retaining wall and focuses on doing a breathing exercise, grounding himself and allowing his pain to naturally lessen from the pause. Logan and Patton happily talk amongst themselves, no judgement or impatience present. Virgil is so grateful.

They walk at a slower pace to the lawn. Roman holds Virgil’s hand the whole way there and occupies his mind with low stress chatter.

Patton lays out the picnic blanket and starts to spread the various foods he has packed. Virgil sits with his legs crossed and rounds his back, trying to stretch it out.

“May I?” Logan holds his hands towards Virgil. He nods and Logan settles himself behind him. He gently works his fingers over those tight muscles. He knows now to go easy, especially after Virgil almost threw up that one time.

He relaxes incrementally. It helps, so much so that he is giving Roman shit, making snarky comments and they throw banter back and forth.

They get some food in him: handing him things so he doesn’t have to reach or make decisions. If they end up overstepping he will tell them to back off or he will snap at them. They do not have to worry about that today though.

Virgil curls up against Roman and contentedly laces their fingers together. Wind rustles the leaves above them, sending scattered sunlight across their faces. He watches Logan’s face light up as he explains a concept. His neutral demeanor shifts subtly as he enters his element, nerding out a little. Virgil’s gaze shifts toward Patton who is eating a frosted sugar cookie and getting crumbs all over himself. A lock of wavy hair falls over the bridge of his nose. He crosses his eyes and giggles as he unsuccessfully attempts to blow it back into place. Logan reaches across to tuck it among the other curls. Patton pouts at his fun being dampened, but he seems to forget about the whole thing when Logan leans in to kiss him.

A little later Virgil shifts onto his back with a blanket bundled beneath his head. He does a body check, frowning at the spots of pain that light up in his mind’s eye. His fingers rub over the cool glass of the tiger balm in his pocket. He does not get up to apply that yet, but he is comforted at having the option of relief literally at his fingertips. 

Patton reaches up to smooth the furrow between Virgil's brows. He is surprised back into his surroundings, but not startled like he used to be. He instead lets himself relax under the touch, closing his eyes and feeling safe in these hands. There is a gentle press of lips to his forehead and he can’t help but smile, small but genuine.  _ I am safe.  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up is the epilogue/final chapter! I might post a couple deleted scenes as separate works if I have time. I hope you all liked this chapter!  
> Also I prefer square breathing (in for four, hold 4, out 4, hold 4, repeat) instead of the Sanders 4-7-8. IDK why I’m mentioning it, but there’s a chance it might help someone  
> As always, please give me any thoughts, criticism, point out spelling errors, etc.  
> Check out my writing blog! writeintrees.tumblr.com


	8. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I finished the first draft of my novel! Decided to finish this too and ignore my finals lol. I hope everyone is staying safe and warm out there  
> 4785 words

It’s been a year now since they all started dating. Virgil is working at his slow pace through his bachelor’s degree. The others decided to stick around after graduation either for graduate programs or for work. 

Logan is getting his PhD and Patton got work in the city. Roman got a book deal and is working full time on getting a sequel written. 

It’s Tuesday morning. Roman yawns loudly while stretching his arms out with more drama than Virgil knew was possible. He loves how Roman never ceases to surprise him. Roman has sleep tousled hair and manages to make it stick up at odd angles when he runs a hand through it. 

“What?” Roman frowns, looking at Virgil who is hiding laughter behind his hand.

Virgil reaches across the island and smooths down the locks. “Just admiring your beauty of course.”

Patton shuffles out of his room, his slippers loud against the tile. He blinks sleepily as he scans the room. He shuffles his way to Virgil, giving the other plenty of time to set down his breakfast before being wrapped in a big hug. They stand like that for a long while, eyes closed and breathing slow into the embrace. Patton gets heavier and Virgil clings a little tighter for fear of the other falling to the floor. Eventually Logan comes over and presses a creamed and sweetened coffee into Patton’s hand. The beverage is in one of Patton’s  _ many  _ pun mugs. He tries to drink the coffee while continuing to cling to Virgil, but finally relents to only giving a side hug while he consumes the hot beverage. Virgil picks his now-cold oatmeal back up.

Logan walks over to sit stiffly at the island. They make light conversation. Roman laughs loud and full while Patton giggles at his own pun. Virgil's heart blossoms at the sight. He can’t help but stop and give each a peck on the cheek.  _ I love them so much, I cannot believe that I get to see them every day. _

A little later Patton makes a fuss about saying goodbye multiple times and Logan tugs him towards the door, exasperatedly reminding him they will be back in a few hours. Logan drives them both into the city. 

Virgil goes into his bedroom and sits on his bed to scroll on tumblr, the familiar weight of his noise cancelling headphones settled over his ears. Eventually he finds his eye drawn to an engineering pad and a graphing calculator sitting expectantly on his desk. He sighs and runs a hand over his face.

_ I really should be doing homework. But I’m just too tired _ . He adjusts himself onto his back and lays his phone onto his belly. Music streams through his headphones as he just lies there and thinks.  _ You deserve to rest. Resting is productive too _ , he reminds himself. He remembers what Patton tells him too,  _ being unproductive doesn’t make you unworthy. _

So he shoves down his anxieties and lets himself breathe. He watches low spoon videos while his body recuperates his energy for a bit. A little later he comes out of his room to get lunch. Roman is in the big chair and completely engrossed in a paperback book, not even looking up when Virgil enters the room. 

Virgil’s lips quirk. He is feeling bold. He flops across Roman’s lap and the other gasps and fumbles to keep from dropping his book. Virgil looks up at him with a shit-eating grin and adjusts himself against the cushy chair arm. Roman kisses him on the corner of his mouth then rearranges into a more comfortable position to continue reading with his new chairmate. Virgil relaxes into his side and pulls out his phone to scroll.

That bold feeling is a more familiar feeling now. His self doubt and anxiety have been soothed by gentle reassurance. He is several months into a new SSRI, and he dares to be hopeful that it is actually working this time. His anxiety feels more under wraps than usual via breathing techniques and quieting the what ifs in his head.

A romantic or queerplatonic partner is not supposed to fix you, he knows, but just having a healthy relationship with kind words makes it easier for himself to put the work in.

It is dark by the time there is a commotion from the front door. “We’re home!!”

“Greetings.” Logan nods.

Roman has started chicken tortilla soup which makes the entire house smell cozy and warm. Patton almost falls over in his hurry to slip out of his boots before bounding into the kitchen.

* * *

Virgil’s pencil scratches on paper as he sits on the couch, the engineering notepad against his knees.

_ 573*11^22 _ . He thinks as he goes to plug it into his calculator. He hits the on button.  _ What were those numbers? _ He looks back.  _ Okay 573. 573. _ Even those three numbers slip from his mind by the time he turns his head to type them into his calculator.

“I used to be so smart,” he laments out loud, meaning it to be a statement of fact but sadness tugs at the edges of his voice. He sets the calculator aside and looks up to meet the concerned expression on Patton’s face. That should be enough to shut him up but these thoughts that have been building in him for so long begin spilling bitterly from him. “Math used to come to me like second nature. I was that kid who never had to study. Fuck, it’s all gone now though. I used to row, I used to read, I used to be able to learn random topics. I’m too tired now.”

He locks a hand in his hair desperately. These words have been bouncing around his skull for years. The edges are less sharp than they used to be but they have left so many wounds inside him that it hurts anew just voicing this out loud.

A hand slips over his, and he lets it loosen his grip. Their joined hands drop and he can see Patton’s face again. 

Patton is looking deep into his eyes. “You are still you. And who you are is  _ incredible _ .” He breathes that word as if he is in awe. “You are still smart even if you have brain fog most of the time. Your worth cannot be tracked by grades.”

He nods and something must change in his face because Patton smiles. Patton leans forward to kiss him then stands.

“Want to help me make cookies? I’m in the baking mood.”

“Yeah, sure.”

_ I don't know how much good time I have left, but it is better than I could ever have imagined, being in this loving house with the best people I have ever known.  _ And although he cannot fathom it, there is the possibility that his condition might not deteriorate. It could even improve.

These intense thoughts drift away in the mindless process of following a recipe and laughing with Patton. The kitchen is warm from the oven and the setting sun coming in gold through the windows.

Virgil is concentrating on smoothing out the frosting with a knife when something cold touches his nose. He blinks in surprise and turns to see Patton licking blue frosting off of his own finger. Virgil crosses his eyes and finds the same blue on the tip of his nose.

“ _ Why _ ?” He complains.

Patton giggles then in a swift motion leans forward and kisses the frosting off. He pecks Virgil on the lips when he sees his stunned expression, then goes back to cookie decorating as if nothing ever happened. He starts humming as he picks up the ziplock bag of red frosting and drapes a sash across the next cookie. Happiness bubbles in Virgil’s chest and he cannot help the secret smile on his lips as he turns back to finishing the decorations on his own cookie.

Everyone loves the cookies. Patton’s decorations are messy but endearing. The ones Patton made for the four of them are the greatest hit: a deep blue tie, a red sash, a purple and black checkered pattern, and an egg blue cardigan with its sleeves tied around the final cookie. There’s a sniffle on the other side of Patton.

“Princey, are you tearing up?”

“It’s just- they’re so beautiful, how am I supposed to eat this?” He cradles his red accented cookie in his hands. “I want to keep it forever! This masterpiece deserves to be framed!”

“That’s how you get ants.”

He finally gives in after demanding they all set theirs down for an instagram photoshoot and taking an excessive number of photos, which only ends when Virgil snatches his back and takes a bite. They are good, Virgil having caught the cookies before they burnt, and just the fact that they were made with love makes them taste better.

* * *

It is a bad day. Like, really bad. Virgil has been able to lie down and save up spoons for a bit but as soon as he gets restless and goes to do something, he depletes them all over again. But he has kept this to himself. He doesn’t see how telling them he is suffering would help. All he thinks about is how they would be sad or pity him or even be angry. He is not in the mindset to deal with that right now.

He smiles as he watches them slowly make their way towards the door. Logan is adjusting Roman’s burgundy scarf, tucking it more tightly beneath his jacket. Patton is tugging on his mittens. The cat ears of the hat are matched by the paws of his mittens. The three of them are adorable and Virgil would happily lean here and watch them all day. His smile is weakened though by the pain and fatigue coursing through him. _ I really shouldn’t be standing right now. _

Roman turns and his gaze lingers on Virgil. “You sure?” He asks.

“Yeah. Have fun.” It is taking too much energy to keep himself upright at the moment and a part of him wants them to leave quickly so he can break unseen.

But that hopeful part of him cries out when they do leave. They go off to their date night without him. His face crumples and he takes a shaky breath. The door latch clicks hollowly through the now empty apartment.

Virgil's hand grasps the door jamb and he stumbles his way into the kitchen. One thing that usually gives him a little energy boost is eating. His mind is swimming and unclear. He mumbles to himself “what am I doing” more than once as he tries to keep everything straight. Blinking dazedly at the bright light from the refrigerator that he doesn’t even remember opening. Thoughts tangle in his mind and he slams the refrigerator shut with frustration. 

“ _ Ow _ ,” he breathes brokenly. With shaking hands he pulls down a box of crackers and grits his way through the difficult task of commanding his hands to open the packaging and his jaw to chew. He sinks to sit on the tiled kitchen floor. Even chewing is painful and takes too much energy. 

His eyes scrunch shut and he groans miserably. He grits his teeth against the rising feeling of helplessness. A strangled sound escapes him. His breath hiccups and it does not take long before Virgil is sobbing openly while sitting on the kitchen floor. All the lights are on and it’s too bright and the downstairs neighbors are yelling and  _ god, I’m a fucking mess _ . He gasps between the waves that wrack through his body and steal the air from his lungs.  _ I’m so pathetic. Just fucking stand up! You’ll need to be upright by the time they get back. _

He rolls onto his knees, wrapping a shaking hand over the countertop. The room spins and his feet hurt and he just falls to his knees. “Fuck!” He says, loudly because no one is home to hear.

“Virgil?” Roman’s voice comes from the stairs.

… or so he thought. “ _ Shit _ !” He hisses under his breath. His head shoots up and the room seems to careen sideways. He scrunches his eyes closed. “I thought- you’d gone to dinner.”

“I didn’t want you to be alone on a bad night, so I got takeout for the two of us.”

“I ruined y-your date night.” He speaks deliberately around his clumsy tongue, slow enough that Roman definitely notices. The other kindly waits for him to speak though. “Fuck I’m sorry. Please don’t worry about me. I love you, I don’t want to drag you down and-” He cuts off when a hand grasps around his knee. He gasps for air and the room is still spinning and everything tingles but amid it all, Roman’s face is angelic, even scrunched up with worry.

“You’re not a burden, remember?”

Virgil nods. It is a hard thing to change how he thinks, but with every reminder it gets a little easier. “How’d you know?”

“You had that overthinking look about you. So I didn’t listen to you about being fine alone. Sue me.”

Virgil laughs wetly and fumbles for Roman’s hand, the other easily linking their fingers together when he is unable to. His head tips back against the cabinets as he sinks back to the floor. There is no longer the pretense of wellness to uphold. Roman starts rubbing circles into the back of his hand and his sensitized nervous system makes it feel like the motion is tearing at his skin. 

“N-no.” He manages to get out.

The motion stops. “Sorry. Is holding your hand okay?”

Virgil nods, squeezing Roman’s hand a little as if trying to keep him from pulling away.

The hard cabinets at Virgil’s back and tile beneath him hurt more with every passing second, but he still doesn’t want to have to move. When he starts bouncing his leg and gritting his teeth against the pain, Roman extracts his hand. He makes a sad sound but sighs as arms slip around his back and beneath his legs. His eyes crack open when he is lifted and he snuggles closer to Roman’s chest as the other carries him through the apartment. He settles them onto Roman’s soft bed and crawls in beside him. The bed is so plush that Virgil gets lost in the softness. The comforter is fluffed to the max, so Roman has to smooth it down so he can see Virgil’s face.

Virgil’s eyes close and were it anyone else, Roman would assume that he fell asleep. But sleep does not come easily to him, especially on bad pain days which he suspects includes today. It is instead Virgil attempting to recharge. So completely exhausted that he probably wouldn’t be able to listen to music right now. Roman cannot imagine feeling that way. At first he had not believed how bad these symptoms were, but with each little bit Virgil let them in and let them see him not doing well, it has taught Roman how different things can be. Each time has worked to reshape his world view.

He sees the difference now between Virgil’s rest and sleep. He hears how quiet the other’s breathing is, even when so fatigued his anxiety causing him to make his breathing make no noise. He sees how Virgil’s brow is furrowed, his lips closed, his body tense.

He pulls Virgil more tightly against his chest, wishing desperately to protect him from all harm. If only this were a monster to slay and not Virgil’s body misfiring. He feels so useless lying here.

His mind pivots as he thinks of what Patton and Logan would do. They would say to focus on what is instead of what he wishes could be. They would say for him to focus on Virgil and make him as comfortable as possible and simply be there for him.

“Stormcloud?” Roman asks quietly. He is answered by a slow ‘hmm?’ “Do you want to eat? I brought food back for us.”

Virgil’s eyes crack open and he shakily props himself up with one arm. Roman fluffs some pillows behind his back before going to get the food from where he left it in the hallway.

They eat their meals, Roman tangling their legs together and Virgil humming happily. His eyes seem a little brighter after getting something in his belly, his movements a little less slow and effortful.

Roman can tell that Virgil is overthinking something when he stills and gets a thousand yard stare. It is strange to see him still, the anxious man usually having one hand fidgeting or leg bouncing at all times. He turns towards Virgil and waits. After a few minutes he dares to nudge him gently. “Whatchu thinkin about?”

He sighs and his eyes cast downward. “It’s my fault. I pushed myself too hard yesterday and now I’m facing the consequences.”

“You’re not to blame. You just try to do a little better tomorrow. This is not all on you. Your body just doesn’t work right. And you don’t have to carry this all alone.”

“Still…” He is chewing his lip and fussing with the hem of his hoodie.

They put on a low spoon disney movie to fill the time. Virgil snuggles underneath Roman’s arm, so close he can feel the other’s rib cage expanding against his own, and faintly the beating of his heart at the end of each breath.

“Hellooo!” Patton’s voice calls out. The front door slams shut. Virgil scrunches his eyes closed against the noise.

Patton bounds into Roman’s bedroom. “How’s our shadowling doing?”

Roman holds out his hand and lowers it to tell Patton to mind his volume. They have made this motion specifically for situations like these. Virgil cringes, not wanting Patton’s excitement to be muffled or for his sake to feel self conscious. 

“Oh! Sorry.” He whispers. Patton gives him an apologetic smile. His cheeks and nose are red from the cold air. He looks around and that smile turns devious. He crawls into bed behind Roman, sliding his hands beneath the hem of Roman’s shirt. The other yelps and stiffens, reaching around to pull the offending limbs away from him. 

“Leave me be, you- you ice witch!”

Patton giggles. He reaches his hand out towards Virgil, trying to take another victim. “I wanna hold your haaand. I wanna hold your hand.” He sings.

“The Beatles? Really?” Patton just shrugs. Virgil takes Patton’s cold fingers between his two palms and slowly rubs warmth back into them. When he completes his self assigned task, he hums and snuggles closer into Roman, looping his fingers with Patton’s.

Patton tries to slowly remove his hand but it is just gripped tighter. He giggles. “Kiddo, I’m gonna need my hand back. I’m still wearing my winter jacket.”

Virgil shakes his head. “No. I demand cuddles.”

“How about this. I’ll go hang up my things, change, then come right back. That sound okay?”

Virgil hums an affirmative and lets Patton extract himself. 

Logan is finishing tidying up the apartment. He has put away the crackers from the floor and closed the ajar cabinets. He is rolling up Virgil’s heat pack and sliding it into the top drawer in Virgil’s dresser by the time Patton rounds the corner to inform him that they are having a cuddle night if Logan wants to join.

Meanwhile, Roman nudges Virgil, who groans. “You might want to brush your teeth and get changed, my love.”

“Nooo, your bed is comfy and I just want to sleep.”

Roman laughs. “You’ll sleep better if you actually get ready for bed.”

“Dammit I hate that you’re right.”

“Always am.” He smirks.

Virgil rolls to the edge of the mattress. He runs one hand along the wall as he walks but his feet seem steady and the room stays upright. He quickly changes into pajamas and does his hygiene, lastly using a makeup wipe to clear the foundation and eyeshadow from his face. He cringes at the bags under his eyes and turns away quickly.

Roman pulls back the sheets and Virgil slides in. When he gets settled, he meets Roman’s gaze and blinks slowly. Roman leans in and places kisses across his face, punctuated by a lingering press of lips on the top of his head. 

Patton comes in and slots against Roman’s back. Logan slides in on Virgil’s other side, putting a secure arm around his waist. They murmur a round of ‘good night’s.

Virgil’s breathing grows heavy, his body slumping fully into the mattress and lips parting. Roman kisses his relaxed brow, whispering “sweet dreams my love.” Virgil is not a graceful sleeper, but Roman wouldn’t have it any other way. He enjoys seeing the other with his guard down for once.

Virgil moves a lot in his sleep, his body seeking out a position in which he is in less pain. He switches between draping one leg over Roman and rolling over to drape over Logan. That is how Roman finds him mostly on top of Logan in the early morning light. The only proof Logan is there at all is his head poking out above where Virgil is snuggled into his neck.

Patton’s arms tighten around Roman a little in his sleep with a deep breath. Roman gives in and drifts off again.

* * *

The good days happen more often, although it takes Virgil a while to admit it out loud. It has happened before where he felt better and got excited but later found out it was just a fluke. They work to help each other, Logan admitting his emotions, Patton getting past his toxic positivity, Roman feeling less insecure, and Virgil being more open with the others. They all have their own struggles as all people do. Together they open up healthy communication and try to cushion the blows as they come.

There’s pain in the background still but Virgil is able to ignore it most of the time. And he tries to listen to his body when the symptoms become too much. He lies down or applies tiger balm. 

Right now he smells strongly of eucalyptus and hopes the others will not notice. It is only Logan in the living room, sitting on the opposite side of the couch. Virgil zips his hoodie all the way up to mask the smell. Of course that does not work though.

Logan looks up from his computer and inclines his head. “How are you faring?”

Virgil tenses. His instinct is to give a quick ‘I’m okay, how are you?’  _ But he actually cares about the answer. He won’t be mad at me for not being alright. _ He takes a deep breath which tugs a little at his ribs. “Um, not great to be honest. The pain is pretty bad.”

“I am remorseful to hear that. Would you like for me to problem solve, to listen, or to distract you?”

He furrows his brow. “Would it be okay for me to vent a little?”

“Of course. That is why I offered.”

And he does. He talks about how the pain is making sitting hurt more every day. How it gets in the way of sleeping at night and he is hesitant to share a bed with any of them for fear of keeping them up.

Logan nods and listens and Virgil can tell that he is not just waiting for his turn to talk. That means a lot. After he is done talking and ends up snuggling into Logan’s side, Logan says he would not mind waking up if it was to be there for Virgil. He reassures the other of fears that he did not even voice out loud about him not being a burden and them not leaving him even if he gets worse or this is his new normal.

Virgil tilts his head up. “Walk?”

“Gladly. Just let me put on my shoes and jacket.”

The yards of the neighboring houses are piled with snow which has wilted from its pristine white fluffiness from last week into a dense, off color thing. Virgil is dreading the next time the sidewalks get icy. The way his body has to hold itself stiff always makes his hips tighten. The cold gets to his joints but the fresh air and sights are welcome.

“And the pregabalin is helping?” Logan asks. 

“Yeah. I don’t want to jinx it but I am feeling less fatigue during the day.”

“That is great news. I am glad you did not give up.”

Virgil smiles wryly, thinking about how no treatments ever seemed to work. He thinks about the times he couldn’t cope or thought no one would ever be able to deal with being around someone who is incurable. Even if this improvement is temporary, he has the support system now to help him get back on his feet. “I’m glad too.”

* * *

He is leaning sideways on the couch when there is the sound of keys in the lock.  _ Roman coming back from his publishing meeting _ . 

“Virgil! You’ve got mail!” Roman calls from the base of the stairs.

Virgil is up and across the room in a flash. He grabs onto the wall as his vision spots for a moment. He barely notices as he watches a long cardboard box being brought up the stairs. He crouches beside the coffee table and takes his key to the packing tape as he is unwilling to leave the room, even to get scissors.

He unwraps the forearm crutches with a single-minded focus, being gentle with the purple metal. It takes a little adjusting but he gets them to the right height and slips his arms into the cuffs. He stands there and feels the weight of them in his hands. He pushes down and feels how secure they are, feels the way his weight transfers onto them. 

There is movement out of the corner of his eye and he looks up. Roman is still standing there, Logan is on the couch and Patton must have come in during all of this. They are watching him. 

“Virgil? How’re you feeling?” Patton asks with a hesitant smile.

His hands flex around the soft purple rubber of the hand grips. “I love them.” He breathes. He looks up and a smile cracks across his face. “I’ll be able to go to more places with less pain.” 

Patton squeals and wraps his arms around Virgil’s middle.

“This is cause for celebration!” Roman announces. 

They order takeout from Virgil’s favorite Thai place. He hums as he bites into an egg roll with a crunch, then happily piles Pad Thai onto his plate until he can eat no more. 

Roman sets up his speaker in the center of the kitchen. He selects one of his playlists and an upbeat song comes on. He holds out his hand and bows slightly to Patton, who eagerly takes his hand. They spin about. Patton giggles and reaches out to pull Logan in.

Logan complains that he does not “do dancing” but he is no match for Patton’s puppy dog eyes. He falls into a box step which somehow works with everything going on. 

Virgil has been so distracted watching Logan that he does not notice Roman dancing his way until there is a hand extended his way. 

“May I have this dance? Only if you feel up to it.”

Virgil does a quick body inventory then takes Roman’s hand. He has no instinct for this, but Roman is patient in leading him and does not mind when he makes mistakes. Virgil is passed between the three of them, everyone switching partners. The rigid steps that Logan is making are difficult for Virgil to follow. 

He cringes as he steps on Logan’s foot again, grateful he is in socks. “Sorry.”

“It is no bother.”

“Switch!” Patton calls as he swoops in and steals Virgil away. 

His brain is not following the dancing very well anymore, but he is not ready to call it quits or to leave someone partnerless. Patton mercifully switches them into a slow dance. They start with one hand on the other’s shoulder and one on the other’s hip or waist. But they quickly relax and reel each other in. Virgil rests his cheek against the tops of Patton’s head. His hair smells like honey and vanilla. 

Virgil feels tears prick at his eyes. He is grateful that Patton cannot see him, but his voice betrays his mistiness. “I am so lucky to have you guys. I love you so much.”

Patton tilts his head. “And we’re lucky to have  _ you _ , love. We won’t let you forget that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Thank you to serotoninDeficient for reminding me that mobility aids exist. I’ve been wanting forearm crutches for a while now for myself.)  
> Remember kids: It is okay to take a different path. Self care isn’t selfish. Your mistakes don’t define you. You are deserving of love and rest and help. Please communicate your needs to people around you. Things will get easier. Even if you have a lifelong condition, you can have a better life. Virgil is learning these things and I hope you can too.  
> I am in absolute awe over how many people relate to this story. It feels very personal to me with my intersecting identities, and I am glad I am not the only one. I'm really sad this is over, but I will post a couple deleted scenes I think. Thank you for all the kind words and even if I do not respond right away, I do see the comments. I wish you all lots of love and spoons <3  
> If you’re interested in my original work, come say hi on my writing tumblr: writeintrees.tumblr.com


End file.
